


Every Rose Has Its Thorns

by skv



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, HPfanfic, Hogwarts, Love, Magic, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, Slow Burn, Slytherin, Triwizard Tournament, harry potter cousin, harry potter fanfiction, young adult fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 76,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skv/pseuds/skv
Summary: Rosalie Dursley has always felt like the outsider in her family. Whereas they can be judgemental and cruel, she shows compassion and kindness. When long buried secrets are revealed, she finds herself joining Harry at Hogwarts, against their wishes, and is thrust into a dangerous game that could decide the fate of the wizarding world, torn between the light and the dark.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	1. Dreams and Letters

Rosalie shivered as the waves crashed over her legs. She could feel the mixture of sand, tiny shells, and cold water beneath her feet and lifting her head, she watched a group of teenage girls splashing each other, herself among them. Her dreams were, to put it mildly, strange. While some people dreamt of flying amongst the clouds or talking animals, hers never made much sense, especially when she could see herself like an out of body experience. Other times, she seemed to be someone else though her mother simply deemed it an overactive imagination.

The wet sand hardened beneath her feet, replaced with a polished wooden floor. She was no longer on the beach where she spent most of the summer with her friends but an unfamiliar hallway. Her right leg numb, she carefully climbed the stone steps, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, provided by the mullioned windows on either side of the front door, and taking in her new surroundings, a once grandiose home hidden beneath decades of built up dust and grime.

Stopping at the end of the hallway, she peered through an open door where a timid, balding man was tending to someone sitting in an armchair. The hidden man, speaking in a high-pitched, chilling voice, appeared to be the one in charge. She listened to them talk about a Quidditch World Cup, wizards, and muggles.

Her chest tightened when the hidden man mentioned needing Harry Potter, something his partner anxiously opposed due to him being heavily guarded, leading to him being chastised as cowardly and weak. Their conversation continued with a casual conversation of a woman's death at their hands, after she divulged useful information, and the timid man, referred to as Wormtail, shifted uncomfortably upon learning that he was an essential part of their dangerous plans. Her surroundings changed once more and she found herself glancing up at the balding man.

"M—my lord?" he stuttered.

A gigantic snake slithered towards them, resting on the rug. Rosalie's lips moved, speaking a different language, and as the snake hissed, she understood every word.

"According to Nagini, there is an old muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say." Wormtail glimpsed at the door. "Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?"

He beckoned someone into the room, a soft tapping sound indicating their use of a cane. Their voices became muffled and an intense hatred and disgust brewed deep inside her. Her view switched between a blinding light and the elderly man attempting to be brave. As Wormtail turned the armchair, she raised her thin, scaly hand, the room enveloped in a flash of green.

Her eyes popped open but instead of a bed, tangled in a blanket with her best friend Mina, she was flat on her back, in the middle of the kitchen. The lamp above her flickered and when she was not seeing dots in front of her eyes, she thought her pillow was sticking out of the ceiling. She jumped up at the porcelain tile floor shaking beneath her and the cabinets opening with a loud bang.

"Rosalie?" A woman in a silk robe entered the kitchen, looking concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I uh wanted a glass of water," said Rosalie, her eyes darting to the bare ceiling.

"Well, why don't you gather your things and I'll get your home?" she suggested. "By now, half the neighborhood is talking about that little quake and knowing your parents, they'll think you're buried under rubble if they don't hear from you straight away."

Rosalie sighed in relief, thinking that she had gone crazy. Mina, dressed in a pink tank top and matching plaid pajama pants, hurried down the staircase, her blonde curls smacking Rosalie in the face as her arms wrapped around her petite frame.

"Rosie, I was so scared," she said, squeezing her tightly. "Everything started shaking and then you weren't there."

"We're fine," assured her mother. "I'm taking her back home once she's packed. Don't you pout, Mina Grace. You'll have plenty of time to see each other. Make sure your brother's up and get dressed. We need to go grocery shopping and you both best behave."

"Mom, we could've died just now." Rosalie stifled a laugh at her best friend's dramatics. "Isn't it safer for us to stay inside the house? I'm sure Rosie's parents would agree."

Her mother pointed at the doorway. "We're out in ten, no exceptions…unless you'd like to spend some time with Mrs. Figg. I hear she's got a new cat."

Rosalie packed her belongings into her duffel bag, with Mina sitting cross-legged on the bed and simultaneously tossing her a piece of clothing and whining about her uptight mother. It could not be farther from the truth, her best friend simply letting out her frustrations. Mrs. Becker was known for being a free spirit ("a lazy hippie", according to Rosalie's father), who managed to raise her two children by herself. Most people in the neighborhood focused on the fact that she was a single mother, instead of her friendly demeanor or excellent baking skills.

"You sure you're okay?" asked Mina, as Rosalie folded her shorts. "I thought I heard you talking in your sleep. It sounded like you were hissing."

"Yeah, I think Harry's scary stories about St. Brutus's are getting to me," she replied, almost fooling herself. "I wish my parents let him go to Smelting's instead but somehow, that would be worse."

Mina nodded solemnly. "Better to be whacked on the head with a ruler than have to suffer being crushed by the human beluga."

"Mina!" said Rosalie, throwing a stuffed panda at her. It was second nature for her to speak her mind, particularly about Rosalie's tactless brother. "Don't call him that. You know, the diet is starting to work."

"Oh, so now he's a baby beluga?" Mina rolled her eyes. "Rosie, just because he's your brother, it doesn't mean you can't call him out for being horrible. It's our job as sisters. If I don't rag on Evan at least once a day, I'm not fulfilling my duties."

"Is that why you do it?" she heard.

An amused Evan was leaning against the doorway. Seeing that he was shirtless, a black tee draped over his shoulder, Rosalie focused on zipping up her bag. Mina chucked the bag at him, intending to hit him in the face but he effortlessly caught it with one hand.

"Nice try, raccoon eyes." She responded with a quiet snarl. "Mom said get a move on. She's already outside."

On her way out the door, she purposely knocked into her older brother's shoulder. Rosalie reached but he merely shook his head, managing to slip his shirt over his head.

"I've got it," he said, with a smile. "Hey, where's your necklace?"

Touching her bare neck, she turned towards the bed. A golden chained necklace, a dove-shaped pendant with rubies for eyes dangling from the center, was resting on the pillow and for a split second, the rubies seemed unnaturally bright. Rosalie had worn it for as long as she could remember, a present from her Aunt Lily and Uncle James. Having never met them, her parents considering them outcasts, it was the one thing that gave her any sort of connection, aside from her cousin Harry. Picking it up, she frowned, noticing the clasp broken in half.

"Danny's aunt owns a jewelry store in town. I bet she could fix it," offered Evan, knowing it meant a lot to her. "We could swing by later."

"We?" she asked, uncertain.

Her father would blow a gasket if he saw her with a boy, let alone an older one with his own car. Since her days on the playground, he was wary of any boy close to her, swarming in as soon as they asked to play with her on the swings or to borrow her shovel. His overprotectiveness grew over time, worsening as not just boys acknowledged her looks but grown men. It was why he rarely allowed her to attend company picnics, not wanting his employees or his superiors to leer at her. It was why he prohibited her from visiting Mina's house often, wanting her far away from the charming and handsome Evan.

When he was unable to intimidate the poor boys, the task was left to Dudley, who relished his role. At Smelting's, not a day went by where he didn't threaten another boy for simply glancing in her direction. His massive size, along with his gang of fellow bullies, intimidated most of them. Her mother was no help in the matter, finding their scare tactics noble.

"We can tell your dad that you're going with Mina...but I don't know if that's much better," he joked. "I wouldn't want her to think I'm stealing you away so we can go while she's at her guitar lesson."

Torn between not wanting to upset her mother and potentially enraging her father, with the added bonus of being locked in her room forever, she agreed to his idea. With any luck, Dudley would be too busy bemoaning another day of dieting, courtesy of a letter from the school nurse, to catch her in a lie.

The ride back to her home was a typical one with the Beckers: Mina kicking Evan's seat from the back then pretending that she was simply stretching, an ensuing argument that consisted of silly name calling, and Mrs. Becker, tired after five minutes, drowning them out with the radio.

As Rosalie waved from the front porch, she gripped the door handle, immediately retracting her hand. She thought tiny silver sparks were bouncing off her fingertips but blamed it on a trick of the light.

"Sweetheart, thank goodness." Her mother, placing her purse back on the glass front table, embraced her then cupped her face in her hands. "I've been calling the Beckers for the past ten minutes. I was beginning to think—are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No," said Rosalie, her voice muffled against her mother's collarbone. "Mrs. Becker drove me back right away. I'm sorry that you were worried."

"It's not your fault. I'm simply glad that—" Her lips curved into a frown. "You aren't wearing your necklace."

Rosalie lowered her gaze to her black flats. "T—the clasp broke…from the quake, I guess. I'm going with Mina later to the new jewelry store in town. My friend's aunt owns it and I'm sure she could fix it. Please don't be mad."

"I'd never be mad at you, darling but I don't want you going out on your own." She delicately slipped the necklace into the pocket of her apron. "If you're certain that you don't need to rest, why don't you go help me set up in the kitchen? Your father and brother will be down any minute."

There was something off about her smile, one that did not fully reach her eyes. Brushing away her paranoia, she walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet above the stove for the plates. To her confusion, the cabinet was empty and as she began to call for her mother, the table was already set with plates, utensils, and glasses. Her first thought was that Harry had cast a spell, as a prank. Rosalie did not understand how he could be that reckless, considering two summers ago he had received a letter warning him against using magic outside of Hogwarts.

She was startled by the whistling of the tea kettle. Catching her breath, she turned the dial and removed the kettle from the stove.

"All right there, dove?" asked her father, straightening out his suit.

Her brother was two steps behind, with his permanent scowl on full display. That scowl deepened when her father kissed the top of her head. Rosalie and her brother were as opposite as night and day, in looks and personality. While Rosalie had a sunny disposition, known for being friendly and caring, her brother was as welcoming as a prickly cactus, taking pride in his reputation as a rude bully. Most people, upon meeting them, looked at the two in disbelief, wondering how they could be twins.

Though his features more resembled their mother's ("my little cherub", she called him to his annoyance), he inherited their father's portly frame and short temper. Rosalie was a perfect blend of her parents, with her father's dark hair and her mother's petite figure and eyes the color of forget me nots. One thing that she did not share with any of her relatives was their tendency to be judgmental towards, what they deemed, abnormal.

An example of that was their treatment of her cousin Harry, his magical abilities seen as monstrous instead of wondrous. From the moment he had been left on their doorstep as a baby, her parents acted like he was a burden, not a member of the family, and when they noticed the friendship between him and Rosalie, they did their best to keep their interactions at a minimum. Their efforts proved futile, with the two sneaking around so Harry could tell her about his adventures at Hogwarts.

Almost immediately, her father questioned if Evan had been inappropriate around her. Evan could rescue people from a burning building and her father would continue to see him as a dirty monster.

"You always think the worst of him, Daddy," she said, pouring herself a cup of tea. "He's very nice."

As she sat at the table, Dudley taking up one whole side, he purposely kicked her leg. She had given up on being friends with her brother around the age of six, after he threw mud on her dress at a family reunion.

"After breakfast, why don't I take you into town for some shopping?" suggested her father. "We can stop by that ice cream parlor you like as well. I don't want to risk you being alone if another of those quakes strikes. I'm sure it was frightening.

Dudley whimpered at the mention of ice cream. "I didn't really feel it," she admitted, spotting a shared glance between her parents as her mother opened the fridge. "Did you hear what caused the quake? It's like it came out of nowhere."

Her father's mood soured at the arrival of Harry, his dark eyes passing over his disheveled hair and baggy clothes. Knowing it was best not to anger him, he sat across from Rosalie, trapped between her father and brother. As her mother placed grapefruit quarters on each plate, Rosalie managed a quick wave, Harry responding with his own before hiding his hand under his sleeve. Her brother devoured his grapefruit then eyed hers and Harry's greedily.

At sound of the doorbell, her father left the kitchen and seconds later, he returned, looking livid. That expression was reserved for only one person, Harry, who he ordered into the living room. Unable to intervene in the verbal lashing, rather tame since her father's voice was not carrying across the hall, she kept an eye on the door and blocked Dudley's hand, inches from her plate, with her spoon.

"It's not like you need it, twig," he hissed. "Give it to me now or—"

Just as he lifted his fist, the chair split in half, causing him to fall to the floor. Her mother shrieked at the sight of her brother flat on his back and groaning in pain.

"Diddy darling!" She struggled to lift his head, checking for open wounds. "Don't move too much. Rosalie, help him up to his room while I get the first aid kit."

Asking her to help brother was like asking her to lift up a truck. She could not get through the door without pausing every few steps. Once they were out in the hallway, he pushed her roughly, knocking her into the wall.

She rubbed her shoulder, wincing. "Why can't you let me—"

"Shut it," he snapped, making her clench her fists. He pressed his ear against the living room door. "I'm fine. I'm trying to hear Dad yell at four eyes."

The lights in the hallway flickered. "Don't call him that. He's family."

"Am I hurting his feelings?" he asked, mockingly. "Cry me a river. Shove off unless you want me to tell Dad about your little chat the other night. Bet he'd love to hear that you think those freaks are cool. On second thought, I should tell him so he'll want to keep you as far apart as possible. Maybe he'll send you to a boarding school on the other side of the world."

Biting her tongue, nearly piercing it when he called her a 'stuck up brat' behind her back, she continued down the hallway, resisting her own urge to eavesdrop on the conversation. She found the perfect opportunity, noticing a pile of scattered letters on the doormat. It was the typical bills and letters from relatives and family friends, including a birthday card for her from Aunt Marge that contained a few fifty-pound notes.

Under the birthday card was another letter addressed to her, one that looked strangely familiar. The envelope was made of thick yellowish parchment, with emerald green writing on the front.

Miss R. Dursley  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey

As she started to flip it over, the envelope was snatched from her hand. Her father, standing behind her and half of his face looking like a grape, pocketed it in his suit and grabbed the rest of the mail. Harry was by the staircase, looking surprisingly pleased.

"Thank you for getting that, sweetheart. I thought I forgot something," he said, sifting through the letters.

"It was for me," she replied, curiously.

Her father chuckled. "From Smelting's. I was wondering why I only had your brother's. It's nothing to concern yourself with…boring school matters and all that. Are you ready to go?"

"I want to unpack first," she said, tearing her gaze from his breast pocket. "I'll be down in a couple minutes."

Harry joined her on the staircase, jumping three steps at a time. It was odd for him to be in a good mood after a conversation with either of her parents. When they were at the top of the stairs, away from her father's watchful eye, he held up a piece of purple parchment. Her father's anger stemmed from a letter written by Mrs. Weasley, inviting Harry to the Quidditch World Cup finals. She offered to let Harry stay with her family for the rest of the summer.

Rosalie giggled at the envelope, covered in dozens of stamps, something the postman also found hilarious. Her father, never wanting to be perceived as anything less than normal, did not share in his amusement but one mention of Harry's godfather Sirius Black, a wizard and former prisoner who was wrongly convicted and on the run, made him reconsider allowing him to attend the World Cup, on the condition that the Weasleys picked him up from the house.

"Dad must be spooked if he's letting them in the house," she said, walking towards her room. "It sounds fun."

"Yeah, I can't wait. Ron's been telling me about—ow!" He clutched his arm. "What was that for, Rosie?"

"This morning. What's your plan, to get expelled so you can run off with Sirius?" she accused. "It wasn't funny."

"What are you going on about?" he asked, confused.

"Fine, play dumb but we both know what you did, Harry." She placed her hands on her hips. "If you do it again, I'll take your wand away myself. I'm not letting you ruin your future."

Harry raised his brow. "Thanks? Want some birthday cake before you go? I've got some of Sirius's and Hermione's left."

"Maybe later." She opened her door. "I'll sneak you back a sundae, extra fudge."

Throughout the day, her father doted on her, even more than usual. He seemed intent on keeping her happy, buying her whatever she showed the slightest interest in no matter the cost. It felt a bit excessive when they left their third store, with enough clothes to fill another walk-in closet. Upon returning the same, her mother acted in a similar manner, allowing her to have extra helpings at dinner, despite Dudley's complaints.

Their strange behavior continued into the next morning, with her parents never taking their eyes off of her. Dudley used it to his advantage, scarfing down ice cream directly from the freezer. They treated Harry like he was invisible, aside from her father warning him that the Weasleys were expected to be properly dressed and arrive on time.

Rosalie was brushing her hair when her mother entered her room, carrying a load of laundry. "Oh, is that one of the new dresses you bought yesterday? It's lovely, sweetheart, but why are you wearing it?"

"For when the Weasleys come," replied Rosalie, as if it was obvious. "You and Daddy always say to look our best. The girl at the boutique told me it brings out my eyes."

Her mother gripped the laundry basket. "I think it's unwise for you to be around those…people," she said, taking time to choose her words. "With what happened last time, I don't want you in any danger. Your brother still has nightmares about that incident, no doubt. I'd prefer if you stayed in your room."

"Mom, don't overreact," said Rosalie, not the least bit worried about the Weasleys. She smoothed the front of her dress. "They're here for Harry, not to attack us. I know last time was a little scary but it was a misunderstanding. Besides, wouldn't you feel better if I was with you and Dad?"

Placing the basket on Rosalie's bed, she wagged her finger. "If I say to go upstairs, you'll do it straight away. Understand? This isn't a game."

Knowing that she had won, she simply nodded. At a quarter to five, she joined her family in the living room, holding in her excitement. She had never met the Weasleys before, her father forbidding her from the trip to King's Cross each year.

Her only experience with magic being Hagrid, who barged into the shack her father brought them to when attempting to escape Harry's never-ending Hogwarts letters, and though she had been anxious at first, his sheer size making her cower behind the couch, she was interested in meeting other wizards. Harry's stories made the wizarding world sound like a fairytale come to life.

Her mother was compulsively straightening the cushions while her father read his newspaper and Dudley sat in an armchair, his hands clamped over his backside. Rosalie sat on the bottom of the stairs with Harry, who was constantly checking his watch. At half past five, there was no sign of the Weasleys, irritating her parents. They spoke in terse mutters, believing that the family was expecting a dinner invite, and seeing Harry doubting himself ("Maybe I got the day mixed up. I swear it said Sunday."), she scooted closer, placing her hand over his.

"They're coming," she said, assuringly. "It's not the end of the world if they're a little late. They wouldn't forget you, Harry."

At that moment, her father, in the midst of insulting the Weasleys, shouted in a panic. A terrified Dudley fled from the living room, his hands still on his backside, and without saying a word, he disappeared into the kitchen. Hurrying into the living room, Harry and Rosalie saw her mother backed against the wall, staring at the fireplace in fear. Voices and scraping could be heard behind the wooden boards.

Hearing the voices call out for Harry, her parents rounded on him like rabid wolverines. "What is this?" growled her father. "What's going on?"

Harry held back a smile. "They—they've tried to get here by Floo powder."

"It's how they travel sometimes," said Rosalie, remembering a letter from Harry a couple summers ago. "They can move through fireplaces."

That fact was met with more anger, directed at Harry, than intrigue. Hearing anything related to magic from Rosalie's mouth triggered the alarm bells in her father's head, that Harry was secretly corrupting her. Ignoring his accusations, Harry approached the fireplace, speaking to the people crammed in the small space. Her father's snarl fell when Mr. Weasley warned them to stand back but before he could say a single word, the boards burst outward, sending rubble and loose chippings all over the pristine room. It was her mother's worst nightmare.

Rosalie, completely unharmed, lowered her hands from her head, Harry using his body to shield her from the debris. She looked at the four people who had been expelled from the fireplace, exactly as Harry described: redheaded and freckly. The three teenagers, two of them twins, were dressed like anyone she would see in town, their clothes a bit raggedy, but the older, balding man could have been plucked straight out of the Middle Ages, sporting long green robes.

The rubble had settled into her father's dark hair, making him look like an elderly man. Mr. Weasley held out his hand but instead of shaking it, he stepped back several paces. His anger was not assuaged by Mr. Weasley's apology or his promise to fix the fireplace, most of his words (floo networks and disapparate) flying over his head.

Sensing the tension in the air, he greeted Harry warmly. Rosalie could not help but giggle as he proudly mentioned collecting batteries to her parents, catching his attention.

"Ah, this must be your cousin Rosalie, yes?" he asked, brightly.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, this is Rosie."

She would have greeted them if her mother was not digging her nails into her arm. The tall, lanky boy next to him lowered his eyes to his muddy shoes, his cheeks a slight tinge of pink. Leaving the room to grab Harry's trunk, the twins winked at her. Amidst the awkward silence, Dudley reappeared, practically glued to the wall. Rosalie had only seen him this frightened twice before, when Hagrid gifted him with a pig's curly tail and when Leo Stillwell, an intimidating boy several years older, threatened payback for bullying his little brother.

Fred and George returned to the room, carrying Harry's trunk, and upon seeing Dudley, their faces broke out in identical grins. With a flick of his wand, Mr. Weasley created flames in the fireplace, the flames turning emerald green when he tossed a glittery powder from a drawstring bag.

"Go on, then, Fred," he said, tucking his wand into his robes.

One of the twins stepped forward, accidentally dropping a bag of sweets from his jacket. Watching him walk through the flames, Rosalie's eyes widened as he vanished and his other brothers soon did the same.

"Well…bye, then," muttered Harry.

If the rest of her family were not around, it would have been much more heartfelt. He and Rosalie always struggled with goodbyes after a long summer.

Mr. Weasley held him back, looking surprised. That awkward tension skyrocketed when he noted her family's lack of a response, almost indignant at their silence. Swallowing his pride, her father muttered a goodbye, barely hiding his resentment.

"Miss you," Harry mouthed to her.

"You too. Be careful," she mouthed back, his school years typically perilous.

Rosalie was distracted by a loud choking sound and her mother screaming in her ear. Kneeling beside the coffee table, Dudley gagged and sputtered on a long, slimy purple thing protruding from his mouth. She soon realized that the slimy thing was his tongue and bent down beside him with her mother, who was having a panic attack.

Mr. Weasley deduced that Fred's sweets had been enchanted with an engorgement charm, as a joke. Her mother, tears pouring down her cheeks, tugged on the swollen tongue, determined to rip it out, while her father chucked a china figure at the apologetic man, imploring them to let him help Dudley. In the chaos, Harry disappeared through the fireplace. Pleading with her father, who was throwing figure after figure at Mr. Weasley, Rosalie rested her hand on Dudley's back, his tongue growing to more than four feet long and extending to the kitchen.

"Dudley, you need to stay calm," she said, as Mr. Weasley blasted a figure in mid-air. "Just be calm, please."

For the first time, he listened to her, no longer thrashing around on the floor. Mr. Weasley cautiously stepped towards them and twirling his wand counterclockwise, he cast a spell that returned his tongue to normal.

"I'm terribly sorry about this. My sons can be a bit of a handful," he said, regretfully. "Rest assured, they will get a stern talking to about their behavior. I hope our next meeting goes better. Lovely to meet you all."

He vanished with a sudden pop. Rosalie kept her hand on Dudley's back, comforting him as he panted heavily. Her father, spurred by what had just occurred, began one of his usual tirades about Harry, how he and his 'unnaturalness' were banned from the house.

"He didn't put them up to it, Dad," she insisted. "Dudley's not hurt. It was a bad prank."

"Don't go feeling sympathy for that…freak," he said, his voice low. "Ever since we took him in, I knew he'd be trouble. He's filling your head with nonsense. You're never to be alone with him, Rosalie. Do you hear me? If he so much as—"

He was interrupted by a soft tapping on the door. Her parents looked at each other, as if the other would know who was visiting at such a late hour. Brushing the dust from his hair and mustache, he opened the door to one of the strangest men Rosalie had ever seen in her life. He was tall and thin with waist-length silver hair and beard and half-moon spectacles perched on his crooked nose. If his appearance was not enough of a giveaway, his deep purple robes, embroidered with silver stars, were like a flashing sign that read 'Wizard'.

"Go to the Polkiss's, both of you," whispered her mother, ushering her and Dudley to the door. "Don't leave until I call."

A dark-haired boy, looking no older than eighteen, appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His biceps showed through the sleeves of his henley though Rosalie noticed that his boots were not made of typical leather. His head nearly reaching the top of the frame, he towered over her and her family. Unexpectedly, Dudley inched himself in front of her, acting like a protective brother.

"You were right about them sneaking off, sir," he said, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Muggles really have no sense."

"It isn't wise to paint them all with the same brush." The elderly man stepped over the threshold. "Albus Dumbledore. We have corresponded, of course, but it has been a long time since my last visit. Your rose bushes are looking lovely, I must say. Shall we assume you graciously invited me inside, Mr. Dursley?"

Her father was surprisingly silent. Dumbledore's gaze flickered to her mother, who was beginning to cut off circulation in her wrist.

"A pleasure to see you again, Petunia." He turned towards Rosalie and Dudley, who was once again clutching his backside, with a kind smile. "Forgive the intrusion but it is a matter of utmost importance. May we speak in the living room?"

His tone hinted that it was more than a request. Despite her father's objections, threatening the elderly man to leave their home, Rosalie followed him into the living room. Dudley tagged along, clearly afraid of being turned into a full pig or worse. The tension from the Weasleys' lingered, Dumbledore somehow maintaining his serene expression. Harry always described him as a wise grandfatherly figure. Even in his old age, there was something imposing about his presence.

Sitting in an armchair, he introduced the older boy as Alec Cabot, a recent Hogwarts graduate. He was one of several students participating in an internship program that paired former students with professors to gain proper experience. Feeling his dark eyes on her, Rosalie lowered her head, trying to act oblivious.

"Normally, Alec would be handling this matter by himself," he explained. For a second, she thought his eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. "But under these circumstances, I thought it was best to accompany him."

"I—is Harry in trouble?" she asked, fearing he was about to be expelled "He didn't mean to use magic. He was goofing around and technically, the first time doesn't count because it was a house elf that made that pudding float, not him. Don't you have a three strikes policy?"

Dumbledore's pale eyes shined in the light. "Your cousin is in no trouble. We are here—"

"Is it because of Fred's candy?" she wondered. "I—it was an accident. Right, Dudley? They didn't mean to mess with your tongue."

Dudley was too busy staring at the blue carpet. "Typical Weasleys," mumbled Alec.

"I believe this will make things clear."

Reaching into his robes, Dumbledore handed her an envelope, the same from this morning. Her father was about to snatch it again but he lifted his hand, with a groan, as if repelled by an invisible shield. Flipping it over, her eyes widened at the waxy seal of the Hogwarts crest.

"I suggest you leave at once," her father snarled. "We won't entertain these delusions."

"If anyone has been entertaining delusions, it is me," said Dumbledore, a fury in his voice. "As I said during our last encounter, you are not equipped to handle this situation. Lily's enchantment has been holding on by a thread these past few years. Your negligence could have caused far worse than an earthquake."

Her head snapped up at his words. "Wait, you think I caused it? I'm not—I'm not like Harry. We're the same age and I didn't get a letter."

Dumbledore surveyed her with deep regret. The next few minutes made her question if she was experiencing one of her vivid dreams. Ignoring her father's increasingly purple face and her mother's quivering lip, he confessed that he intended for her to receive her letter much earlier, arriving at her home the day Hagrid brought Harry to Diagon Alley. It was common for a professor to visit muggleborn families to explain their child's unique abilities.

When she and Dudley were born, her mother noticed odd incidents like Rosalie's blanket changing color. Recognizing the signs from the years spent growing up with Aunt Lily, she begged her estranged sister to 'fix' Rosalie. Her aunt enchanted a necklace to inhibit her magic, though it was not enough to hide her from a magical quill that recorded the birth of any witch or wizard in Britain.

Dumbledore's arrival was met with denial and outrage, her parents refusing to send her to Hogwarts. Sensing that it was a losing battle, he reluctantly agreed to let her stay in the muggle world. He sent constant letters, warning them of the dangers of an untrained witch, but her parents never bothered to read them, throwing them in the trash. The earthquake caught the attention of the Ministry, who was able to pinpoint her as the culprit with a charm that tracked all underage magical children. Quelling their concerns, Dumbledore surmised that her magic was growing too rapidly, leading to the broken necklace and the reversal of her aunt's spell.

"This is not a game," he said, unfazed by her father's murderous expression. "I implore you to see reason and accept that Rosalie must be enrolled at Hogwarts. She could cause serious harm not only to herself but to others."

"She won't be going," stated her father. "I won't have you turn her into one of you freaks."

"Freaks?" asked Alec, speaking for the first time. He crossed his arms. "You're really Father of the Year, aren't you? Why don't you let her get a say? It's her choice. She's the one with magic, not you."

"Alec," warned Dumbledore. "Mr. Dursley, surely you do not wish to see Rosalie in any danger."

As they argued back and forth, Rosalie felt numb. Her parents had been lying her entire life, never intending to reveal this hidden part of her. Thinking back to the morning of the earthquake and Harry's reaction to her accusation, she realized that she had been the one to make the plates appear, not him. Dudley's look of disgust was one he usually reserved for Harry or a piece of broccoli at dinner. While her parents' voices were getting increasingly louder, Dumbledore somehow remained even-tempered. Her mother somehow blamed her aunt and uncle, calling it a twisted joke and believing they had poisoned her at her wedding.

"Perhaps it's best for you to mull it over. You've had an eventful night but do not think this discussion is over," said Dumbledore, rising from the couch and brushing glittery powder from his robes. "I will be back tomorrow, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley."

"It will be a waste of time," replied her father, his mustache twitching in anger. "I suggest you stay away from my home."

With a small nod, Dumbledore left the house, accompanied by Alec who glanced over her father with disdain. Her father ordered her and Dudley up to their rooms but she did not move from the couch, her manicured fingers digging into the cushion.

"Darling, it's time for bed," her mother said, gently. "I'll bring up some warm milk to help you sl—"

"Why did you keep me?" Those four words conveyed her inner heartbreak. "You knew all this time so why didn't you just give me away? You say you love me but that's a lie."

"That old fool is putting nonsense in your head," argued her father. "How dare you think that way, Rosalie? After everything we've given you—"

"So you don't feel bad about keeping secrets!" she interrupted, tears in her eyes. "How can you love me and hate what I am? Because pretending it doesn't exist won't make it go away. It's part of me!"

Her parents likely would have followed her up the staircase, if it were not for her slamming her bedroom door. In any other scenario, she would be venting to Mina over the phone but she doubted even her best friend would believe her about being a witch. The only one who could understand was Harry, who was miles away with his friends. A wisp of purple smoke formed over her bed and a small piece of parchment appeared on her pillow.

Remember, it's your choice.

Later that night, emboldened by Alec's words, she quietly sneaked down to the living room with a packed suitcase. She was unsure of her next step, having no way to write to Harry. The previous summer, after accidentally making Aunt Marge swell up like a balloon and storming out of the house, he hitched a ride on the Knight Bus but he never explained how he summoned it. Pacing around the room, stopping each time she heard her father's loud snores, she spotted a drawstring under the coffee table. The glittery powder inside was the same that Dumbledore wiped from his robes and the Weasleys used to travel back home.

Mimicking Mr. Weasley, she scooped it into her hand and tossed it into the fireplace, the flames turning emerald green. Her heart raced at the thought that she was essentially running away, leaving the life she knew for a mysterious world, one that she had been denied for years. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she stepped into the fireplace.

"T—the B—burrow," she stuttered.

It felt like she was being sucked through the chimney. Spinning very fast and a deafening roar in her ears, she stumbled forward but managed to steady herself before her face smashed into the wooden floor.

"Rosie?!"


	2. The Quidditch World Cup

It was all a dream. Rosalie repeated that over and over inside her head, despite feeling Harry's hands on her shoulders. His emerald green eyes filled with concern, he bombarded her with all sorts of questions, managing to speak a mile a minute without taking a breath. Standing like a deer in headlights, fully aware of the many eyes looking her over with curiosity, she found herself unable to answer a single one, even one as simple as how she traveled to the Weasleys' home. Incapacitated by fear, nerves, or both, she silenced his incoherent rambling by handing him the Hogwarts letter, her name clearly printed on the front. Looking from the letter to her, he resembled a bush baby she had seen in a nature documentary at school.

"Why don't we take a seat?" A kind-faced woman stepped forward and guided her to the brushed wooden table. "You're in a bit of shock, dear. How about a nice cup of tea?"

The woman, presumably Mrs. Weasley (or the frumpy woman who bred like rabbits, according to her father), grabbed a tea cup from a cabinet. Instead of using a kettle, tea poured out of her wand tip. A jar of honey levitated from another cabinet and tilted on its side to add a few drops to the cup. Taking a sip, Rosalie was unsure where to begin, hardly believing herself that she left home.

Retrieving her necklace, stolen from the cookie jar in the kitchen (her mother's 'secret' hiding place), she explained her parents' years long deception, inhibiting her magic with a spell. The more she spoke, those feelings of hurt resurfaced, creating a giant lump in her throat. Mrs. Weasley's comforting pats on her back made her wish that it was her own mother, who was more willing to believe she was poisoned by a vindictive sister than to accept her daughter's abilities.

She introduced her to her children she had not already met: Bill, who worked as a curse breaker in Egypt, Charlie, a who studied dragons in Romania, Percy, who recently began working at the Ministry, and Ginny, the youngest and the only girl.

"You're more than welcome to stay with us, Rosalie," offered Mr. Weasley, conjuring a piece of parchment. "I'll write a quick message to Dumbledore to tell him of your situation though I'm sure he's already aware of where you are…doesn't miss a trick, that man. I'll write to Ludo as well to ask for another ticket for the World Cup. You won't want to miss it."

"And you can stay in my room with me and Hermione," said Ginny, nodding to the bushy-haired girl beside her. "There's plenty of room."

Rosalie followed both girls up the rickety staircase, taking in her surroundings. The Burrow was unlike any house she had ever been in, with its many crooked stories and clutter. Her mother would faint at such disarray but to Rosalie, it felt cozy, not like a model house in some fancy magazine.

Ginny's room was about the size of her closet back home. Her doubts about being able to fit faded away as her eyes roamed the small room, amazed by the moving posters of bands and quidditch players on the walls. Harry and Ron entered the room, carrying her suitcase and a bowl of strawberry ice cream.

"My mom makes it herself," said Ron, holding out the bowl. "It always cheers me up."

"Thanks," she replied, as Ginny placed another cot, with a blanket and pillow, next to one at the end of her bed.

"I'm sure this all must be daunting but you'll adjust quickly," assured Hermione. "I can share all of my notes over the years to catch you up. I held onto my old books so you can read them, if you like."

Ron shook his head in disbelief. "Only you would want to read during the summer." He sat on Ginny's bed, with his own bowl of ice cream. "Hermione's top of the class, if you couldn't guess. Bet McGonagall has her tutor you once you're in Gryffindor because no one else can handle it…or wants to relive all that again. I could barely get through it the first time."

"The sorting's a lot scarier than it sounds but it's easy," said Harry, grinning. "You'll love it in Gryffindor, trust me."

Trying to process all this information, a whole new doubt emerged in her mind. What if she was not sorted into Gryffindor? Would she be able to ask Dumbledore to put her in Gryffindor instead of risking separation? She could not handle a floating honey jar, let alone not having Harry around to help her. Snapping out of her thoughts, she realized that they were the only ones in the room.

"They went to get more blankets. It can get a little chilly at night." Reaching into his pocket, he gave back her necklace. "Percy wanted to study it. He said he's never seen a charm that advanced but I told him it's sentimental. Don't be nervous, Rosie. When Hedwig gets back, you can write to Mina, if you want."

"Where is she?" asked Rosalie, unzipping her suitcase.

"I sent a letter to Sirius yesterday." He briefly touched the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. "It was hurting when I woke up from this weird dream. I don't want to worry Ron or Hermione so I'd rather keep it between us."

"Can't be any weirder than mine," she countered. "Did you imagine Dudley turning into a monster pig with a laser snout?"

Harry shut the door before telling her about his dream. To him, she seemed to be listening patiently, like she usually did when he needed to vent about her family or his adventures during the school year, but on the inside, she was thinking that she had gone insane. His dream sounded eerily like her own on the same morning, when she had woken up in the Becker's kitchen. She wondered if their magic somehow connected, a side effect of her breaking through her aunt's charm aside from the miniature earthquake.

Rosalie had just drifted off to sleep when she was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley. The lack of sunlight suggested it was extremely early in the morning. Lifting her head, she saw Mrs. Weasley jostle Ginny and after the seventh try and groggy muttering, she was successful, leaving the room as Ginny rolled out of the bed, curled up in her blanket. Hermione was barely awake herself, blindly reaching for her trunk just out of arm's reach. As Rosalie rifled through her suitcase for an outfit, Mrs. Weasley returned, urging them to get downstairs for a quick breakfast.  
As they walked downstairs, Ginny moved about as slow as a turtle, dragging her cheek against the wall. Rosalie saved her from tumbling down the last step, receiving a muffled thanks in return. Mr. Weasley and the boys, except for Bill, Charlie, and Percy, were seated around the table in the kitchen while Mrs. Weasley ladled porridge into bowls. She stifled a laugh at Mr.  
Weasley's attire, his sweater similar to one her father wore on golf outings with business partners and his baggy jeans.

The boys, like Ginny and Hermione, were half asleep and definitely not morning people, a fact she already knew with Harry who responded to attempts at being woken up with pillows to the face. Fred and George suddenly sprang up from their chairs, lowering themselves into bows.

"Good morning, m'lady," said Fred, pulling out an empty chair.

Sitting at the table, across from an unamused Harry, George slid over his bowl. "We trust you slept well in our lovely abode? The weather certainly agrees with your complexion." Hearing a quiet scoff, he turned towards Ginny. "Perhaps you could give our dear sister a few pointers. She's starting to look like our great aunt Muriel."

Ginny snarled like an angry lion about to pounce on its prey. At a pointed look from her mother, tapping the table with a wooden spoon, she settled for making a rude hand gesture under her sleeve. Mrs. Weasley further prevented any fighting by standing right beside her to pour porridge into her bowl.

"Well, a pageant girl always has to look her best," said Rosalie, earning an eye roll from Harry.

"What's that?" asked Ron, his spoon completely missing his mouth.

"Beauty pageants," she replied, surprised by his cluelessness. "Do you not have them here? They're really fun. It's a competition between girls where you wear cute dresses and answer questions and show off a talent. I've been doing them since I was two years old. I've been Miss Junior Teen Great Britain the past two years."

"That's amazing," chorused Fred and George.

"Eat up, you lot. We've got a bit of a walk ahead of us," said Mr. Weasley, tucking tickets into his back pocket.

"Can't we just use floo powder?" asked Rosalie, puzzled. "Or poof like you did from my house?"

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "It's called apparating and you're all too young for that. We don't want any severed limbs. With a huge occasion like this, we have to be careful about traveling without drawing muggle attention and—"

He was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley shouting George's name. One minute, she was accusing him of hiding something in his pocket and the next, dozens of brightly colored sweets zoomed out of Fred and George's pockets. The twins reacted angrily when she sent them straight into a trash bin, complaining that they spent six months creating the supposedly enchanted sweets. Their foul mood persisted as they all headed out the door, refusing to acknowledge her.

Feeling a chill in the air, Rosalie hugged her navy bomber jacket. Harry appeared alongside her, throwing a strange look over his shoulder.

"If Fred and George are bothering you, you'll let me know, right?" he whispered.

Rosalie squinted her eyes. "Dudley, is that you? Please don't turn into another overbearing watchdog. They're not trying to tear off my clothes, just being nice."

"I'm not—it's not like that," he said, offended by the apt comparison. "You're…well some guys might say attractive from certain angles and—oh come on, Rosie, don't make me say it. Wizard or not, guys are the same but once we're at Hogwarts, they're a lot more dangerous. They can trick you with spells or potions. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Last I checked, I wasn't an old cat lady like Mrs. Figg," she replied, appreciative yet tired of the protective attitude she faced from her father, brother, and now Harry. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Plus I kind of had my eye on Ron."

His eyes bulged at her obvious joke. During their long journey, Mr. Weasley explained to her and Harry how the Ministry organized worldwide travel for a hundred thousand wizards. The World Cup had been set up in a deserted moor with enchantments designed to deter muggles from wandering by and while some wizards used muggle transport like cars or buses, others either apparated from designated points or used portkeys, objects created to transport a person to another location at a specific time. Portkeys were typically items that a muggle would deem litter, such as old soup cans and bits of trash.

At the top of the steep hill, Rosalie caught her breath and helped Hermione, who was panting and clutching her side. Opening her purse, she handed the flushed brunette a thermos.

"Now I remember why I hate PE," she said, making her smile between sips. "If Harry didn't look like he'd set him on fire, I would've taken Fred up on his offer for a piggy back ride."

Mr. Weasley waved at a figure in the distance shouting his name. Continuing along the hill, they saw him speaking to another man with a scrubby brown beard, holding a moldy old boot. Rosalie's gaze drifted to the figure behind him, a handsome, dark-haired boy around seventeen. Mr. Weasley introduced the pair as Amos and Cedric Diggory, Mr. Diggory working at the Ministry with magical creatures, and while most of them greeted them warmly, Fred and George remained silent.

Mr. Diggory peered around at them, curiously. "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," he said, pointing out his children. "These are friends of Ron's, Hermione and Harry and Harry's cousin Rosalie—"

What happened next made her feel like she was in the twilight zone. Whenever Harry told her about his fame in the wizarding world, how people gaped at his scar and treated him like a celebrity, she never fully grasped the idea. To her, he was just her cousin, a normal teenage boy bullied by her brother and shunned by most of the town, but to them, he was this revered hero, the boy who vanquished a dark wizard as a baby. She found it strange that Mr. Diggory made such a spectacle, ignoring how uncomfortable Harry was from the attention.

He boasted with pride about Cedric beating him in a quidditch match last year, considering it a story worthy of telling his grandchildren. Cedric tried to alleviate some of the awkward tension, claiming that Harry had accidentally fallen off his broom, but his father pressed on, praising him as if winning the match made him the superior person. Mr. Weasley, glancing at his watch, mentioned that the portkey was about to activate, clearly wanting to change the subject.

Instructing Harry, Hermione, and Rosalie to touch the boot, they stood in a tight circle. In an instant, she felt an invisible force tug on her navel, jerking forward, and her feet lifted off the ground. She was squished between Hermione and Harry, unable to move a muscle, and as her feet slammed back into the ground, a muscular arm wrapped around her petite waist, saving her from a nasty fall. All around her, the others were either flat on their backs on their sides, groaning in pain.

"First time?" asked Cedric, holding her waist. Tucking back a loose strand of hair, she nodded. "You get used to it. I'm um Cedric."

"Rosie," she said, smiling.

Hearing someone loudly clear their throat, he lowered his arm. Harry disentangled himself from Ron and brushed her jacket sleeve a little too roughly, claiming there were specks of dirt. The two men in front of them looked more bizarre than Mr. Weasley, one wearing a tweed suit with galoshes and the other wearing a kilt and poncho. The man in the suit, Basil according to Mr. Weasley, tossed the boot into a large box of random objects and consulted a list to guide them to their campsites. When it was time to go their separate ways, she waved at Cedric, who nearly bumped into his father.

Harry swatted her hand. "Saw a fly. I know you hate bugs so you're welcome."

"If you don't stop, you're going to find out why Dudley goes mad at Smelting's," she warned, in an overly sweet voice. "Don't make me have this conversation again."

Struggling with paying the manager of their campsite, Mr. Weasley called over Harry for assistance with the money. "Try dealing with that from six brothers," lamented Ginny. "It's annoying but his heart is in the right place. I think it's kind of sweet."

Her cheeks were almost as red as her hair. "You have the crushies," squealed Rosalie, putting two and two together. "I thought so last night when we were in your room. I have a sixth sense about these things. Does he know?"

"I—I don't—not exactly," stuttered Ginny, embarrassed. "I gave him a valentine last year and he didn't take it too well and Malfoy sort of outed me as the one who wrote it. Who knows if he believes that? I—I don't have a chance but I'm…I'm over it."

Rosalie poked her arm. "Liar. That is so adorable. I can help you. Maybe it's my magic but I'm a legit cupid. You can ask my best friend Mina. You won't believe how many people I've gotten together. Harry's clueless when it comes to girls. She liked him for like a month two summers ago and he never got the hint. It's a problem all boys share, to be honest."

Mr. Weasley was still speaking with the increasingly suspicious site manager, Mr. Roberts. He believed them to be foreign, commenting that many other guests had trouble with the money and that the site had never been this crowded. Rosalie did not blame him for his confusion, the children doing a much better job of blending into the muggle world than the adults. What did they expect when they were dressed like a goofy character on a TV show?

In the midst of the conversation, Mr. Weasley growing more tense, another man appeared and cast a spell that made Mr. Roberts glassy-eyed and dazed. He handed Mr. Weasley his change and a map of the campsite. The exhausted man accompanied them to the gate, whispering that Mr. Roberts needed at least ten memory charms a day, due to the lax attitudes of other wizards.

Walking along the field, Rosalie thought all of these wizards were begging to be discovered by muggles. There were tents with random attachments like chimneys and weather vanes, ones with multiple floors and turrets, and ones that resembled miniature houses with gardens, fountains, and peacocks. Mr. Weasley passed it off as their desire to show off and stopped in front of a sign that read Weezly.

"We'll be putting these tents up by hand!" he said, eagerly. "Shouldn't be too difficult…muggles do it all the time. Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

With Harry having no camping experience, not counting the time he spent almost an entire night up in a tree to avoid Aunt Marge's vicious dog Ripper, it was mostly up to Rosalie. Mr. Weasley proved to be more of a hindrance, getting overexcited with the simplest tasks like using a mallet, but with Harry and Hermione's help, they managed to set up two regular tents. Dropping to his knees, he entered one of the tents.

"How are we supposed to all fit in there?" she whispered to an equally baffled Harry.

The tent was far from normal, having three separate rooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. She could not begin to comprehend how it all fit in such a small space. The other tent, for her, Hermione, and Ginny, to share was similar yet slightly smaller and without the smell of cats. Mr. Weasley, insisting on camping like muggles, handed a kettle and a couple saucepans to her, Harry, Ron, and Hermione for water while he and the others grabbed wood for a fire.

Rosalie hardly contained her excitement at being around all these magical people. For Harry and his friends, it was like any other day but the only magic she knew was in stories and movies. There were little girls riding toy broomsticks, levitating inches off the ground, and groups of wizards cooking elaborate meals with a mere flick of their wands. Distracted by a woman entertaining her toddler sons with sparks in the shape of animals, she noticed that she was no longer next to Harry.

She searched for him in the enormous crowd, fighting a dull pain in her forehead. The voices around her sounded like screams in her ear, the words blending into a jumbled mess. Peering around a series of tents covered in shamrocks, a red blur zoomed towards her and she raised her hands to protect herself from harm. Feeling no impact, she saw a large red ball hovering in midair.

"That's mine," she heard.  
A tall boy with well-coiffed white blonde hair squeezed past a group of chattering women. Though he looked to be her age, he was, oddly, dressed in a black button down shirt and matching slacks, like a young businessman. It seemed too formal for a sports event.

"My friend Theo's got a good arm but lousy aim." The second he gripped the ball, it fell into his hands. "And he wonders why he didn't make the cut at try outs last year. If you ask me, he's blinder than a—"

As if he seeing her for the first time, he stopped mid-sentence. The only sounds were the crowd around them, greeting friends, making bets, and admiring each other's tents.

"It's okay," she said, breaking the silence. "I was in my own head. Lucky my brain's a quick thinker."

"Freezing charm go—it was a good freezing charm." His pale grey eyes passed over her. "Do you go to Hogwarts?"

She nodded. "I'm new. It's a long, complicated story. I was with my cousin and his friends but we got separated."

"I could help you find them," he offered. "Maybe you could tell me your story over a butterbeer. It's the least I could do after my friend almost broke your nose."

Catching sight of the back of Hermione's head, she stood up on her tip toes. "I think I see one of his friends. I don't want to lose them. Rain check?"

"Idiot. You didn't even get her name," he muttered as she walked by him.

"It wouldn't be fun if I told you that." He looked at her, confused. "Now you have a reason to find me again."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were at the end of a short line for the water tap. Overcome with giggles, she pointed to the two arguing men ahead of them. One of the men was wearing a flowery nightgown, refusing to accept a pair of pinstriped trousers from the other man, who looked exasperated and prepared to tackle him to the ground. Their argument continuing as they moved forward in the line, Hermione stepped away until the elderly stubborn man left with his pail of water, still in his nightgown.

On the way back to the Weasleys, they encountered some of their school friends. Harry spent ten minutes, most of them unwillingly, with his former quidditch captain Oliver Wood and his parents. If their friend was a boy, Rosalie was able to say little more than a few words, much less smile, before Harry forced her down the field, making up some ridiculous excuse. She managed to turn the tables when he blushed at a very pretty Asian girl waving at him.

"Stop making that sound. Rosie…Rosie, I'm not kidding, she'll hear it," he hissed, attempting to cover her mouth to muffle her squeals. "I'll get a portkey to send you back home."

"My baby cousin has his first crush. That is a huge deal," she replied, glancing back at the girl. "Is she in Gryffindor too?"

He lightly pinched her arm. "First off, you're older by a month, that's all, so don't pull the baby cousin thing. Second, Cho's in Ravenclaw and a year older so you'll never see her except at meals…and passing in the halls but you're not going anywhere near her."

Taking out his wand, he pressed the tip against her elbow, claiming that he cast a restriction charm to keep her at least twenty feet away from Cho. His ruse lasted about five seconds, with Hermione pushing down his wand and calling him foolish. Harry, annoyed at both of his friends trying not to laugh, settled for the silent treatment, refusing to answer any of Rosalie's questions.

Returning to the tents, Mr. Weasley struggled to light the fire, splintered matches littering the dewy grass. He succeeded with Hermione's help and while they waited for the fire to burn hot enough for cooking, Rosalie laid her jacket down on the ground and sat beside Ginny, who was drawing random shapes in the dirt with a stick.

"So potential setback in the matchmaking but no worries, I've got your back," she whispered, nudging her side. "Once I get dirt on this other girl, we'll set our plan in motion."

Ministry officials hurried up and down the field, greeting Mr. Weasley as they headed to other tents to reprimand misbehaving wizards and carried supplies for the World Cup. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary for Harry, Hermione, and Rosalie's benefit, going more in depth for Rosalie considering she knew the least about the wizarding world. Though she knew he was serious, every word out of his mouth sounded made up, like he pulled it from a story. Working with goblins or being paid to erase people's minds could not be actual jobs.

Just as he started cooking sausage and eggs, Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived at the tents. With Mr. Weasley busy with the cooking, Percy took over the commentary, his longwinded explanations immediately boring his siblings and Harry. Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet as another man bounded towards their tents, looking like an overgrown schoolboy with springs attached to his feet. Instead of muggle clothes, he was wearing long robes with horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black and a picture of a wasp across his chest.

Mr. Weasley introduced him as Ludo Bagman, the man responsible for their tickets, and when he then introduced him to Rosalie and the others, Bagman's gaze lingered on Harry's scar. He encouraged Mr. Weasley to bet on the match, his disappointment at his offering of one galleon on Ireland to win diminishing when Fred and George offered up their own money, their entire savings, on Ireland winning but Krum catching the golden snitch.

Percy looked at the enthusiastic man with disapproval at his excitement over one of their inventions: a fake wand that transformed into random objects. It was soon abandoned as Bagman mentioned needing Percy's boss, Mr. Crouch, for some translation issues, unable to understand the Bulgarian Ministry official assigned to him, leading to Percy to praise Mr. Crouch for being able to speak over two hundred languages.

Rosalie stifled a laugh when Fred dismissively commented that to speak Troll, it simply required points and grunts. "I could help out. My pageant coach taught me a bunch of languages because she said it gives me an edge. I'm not an expert yet but I'm pretty decent."

"Well, if Barty keeps hiding away as he usually does, I may have to steal you away," he said, lowering his cup. "No magical lineage at all, eh? I bet you've got some veela in your blood."

"What's that?" she asked, intrigued.

Rosalie never got an answer, with Mr. Weasley letting out an awkward chuckle and asking about a missing Ministry employee. She assumed it was a compliment though Bill's narrowed eyes suggested it was not that wholesome. As his father and Bagman discussed the woman's disappearance, a third man appeared by the fire and for a moment, she thought a regular person had stumbled onto the campsite. He dressed the part so well that he could easily sneak into one of her father's business meetings.

Upon learning that he was Mr. Crouch, Percy's idolization of him made sense, the uptight man looking like he was all about work and rules. The respect did not seem to be mutual, Mr. Crouch calling him Weatherby and barely acknowledging his existence. It did not bother Percy, who hastily brewed him a cup of tea. Their conversation shifted from magic carpets, the very idea making Rosalie's head spin, to a secret event at Hogwarts. Mr. Crouch sharply interrupted Ludo, handing his untouched tea back to Percy and both men apparating from the campsite. Mr. Weasley, despite Fred's urging, would not give details himself, certain they would find out at school.

By dusk, any worries of magical security were forgotten, overtaken by the anticipation of the World Cup. Salesmen appeared along the field, carrying trays and carts of merchandise, such as hats with dancing shamrocks, flags that played the teams' national anthems, and moving figurines of the players. Her money useless in the wizarding world, she had to rely on Harry, who inherited his own small fortune from his parents.

He led her over to a cart of brass binoculars with all sorts of knobs and dials. Brushing off Ron's discomfort, he offered to buy them, joking that it was equivalent to ten years of Christmas presents.

"Relax, Mr. Moneybags," she said, taking his pouch of jingling coins. "Why should you waste all that money when we could just share? I'll share with Hermione, you can share with Ginny, and Ron can share with Fred and George."

"Guess it would be easier," he agreed, oblivious to Ginny's beet red face.

Behind his back, Rosalie gave her a thumbs up. "You're such a gentleman. Ginny, do you want to get that butterbeer now? I really want to try some. We'll meet you guys up there."

Promising Mr. Weasley not to take too long, out of fear of being lost in the growing crowd, she grabbed ahold of Ginny, her face frozen in shock, and walked towards a food cart.

"See? Now you'll have to sit next to each other," she said, squeezing her arm. "You love quidditch, he loves quidditch…"

"I don't know if this'll work," said Ginny, anxiously.

"Well, you're not going to be snogging against a tree by the end of the match. I mean, no judgment if you do," Ginny smacked her arm. "But he won't catch on that quickly. It's all about being subtle. You give little hints to show your interest and then next time, it'll be easier to talk to him. Don't worry about your brothers. They'll be too busy watching the match and Krum. Pretty sure Ron wants to marry him."

Both girls were still giggling as they reached the front of the line. Taking their butterbeers, they headed into the stadium and up the carpeted stairs. At the top of the staircase was a small box, situated halfway between the two sets of three golden hoops on either side of the field and purple and gilt chairs in two rows. Most of the seats were already taken, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys in the front row.

Along the back row, cowering behind the well-dressed Ministry officials, she spotted a creature that looked like Dobby, the house-elf that broke into Harry's room two summers ago to warn him against returning to Hogwarts. Rosalie remembered finding him bashing a lamp against his head when she sneaked upstairs to bring Harry a slice of cake. The house-elf, shaking like a leaf, had its hands over its face.

Further along the row, a portly man with rumpled grey hair was speaking to Mr. Weasley, Percy gazing at him with the adoration he had shown Mr. Crouch. Seated to his right was an aristocratic couple, exactly the type of people her parents would schmooze with at parties, and the boy she had spoken to earlier at the campsite. Seeing that he greatly resembled the man, down to the same pointed chin, she assumed the couple to be his parents.

"Took you long enough," said Harry, helping her into the box. "Did you get lost?"

"Harry, you'll want to take your seat. We're about to start," advised the portly man. He turned towards Rosalie. "Another friend of yours?"

Dodging his mother's handkerchief, the boy glanced in their direction. She expected some sign of recognition but his sole focus was on Harry, an odd gleam in his eyes.

"This is my cousin, Rosalie, sir," explained Harry.

"I did not realize you had other magical relatives." He held out his hand. "Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. A pleasure."

As she shook his hand, she noticed the boy's face fall into one of disgust. He sank back into his seat, hiding himself from view.

"Ah, on time for once!" he exclaimed, speaking to someone behind her. Fred and George's lips curled simultaneously. "This might be cause for celebration."

Alec climbed up the staircase, Ludo Bagman at his heels. "Hilarious, Uncle. That never gets old."

Bouncing with each step, Bagman moved to the front of the box, in preparation for the match. To avoid Ginny chickening out, Rosalie discretely tugged on the back of her shirt, ensuring that she was next to Harry. Instead of following the plan, Ginny sat in silence, fiddling with her Irish rosette. Sensing her nerves a mile away, Rosalie was about to assist the shy redhead when she felt someone move beside her. Another seat had materialized out of nowhere, occupied by Alec.

"And here I thought Dumbledore was going to have to snatch you in the middle of the night and wipe your family's memories to break you out," he joked, casually draping his muscular arm over the back of her seat. "You deprived me of a heroic rescue."

"I wasn't a prisoner," she argued. "I didn't think I could just leave like that but your note helped."

A velvet-covered program struck him in the chest. "Stop talking to her, Cabot," snarled Harry, an uncharacteristic venom in his tone. "Go sit somewhere else."

"I prefer the view from here," Alec shot back, unfazed by his anger.

Harry's enraged voice was drowned out by Bagman's, the sound echoing throughout the stadium and rising above the raucous cheers. While he spoke, Rosalie silently nudged Ginny's side, hinting at her to make a move. Before she could push her out of her shell, Bagman introduced the Bulgarian team mascots.

Instead of cheerleaders with short skirts and pom poms or someone in an animal costume, a hundred women (veela, according to Mr. Weasley) glided onto the field. There was something unnatural about their beauty, making her doubt that they were fully human. Her mind briefly short-circuited as they danced around the field but she managed to bring herself back to reality.

All around the stadium, men, mostly younger ones, were standing up in their seats, openly gaping at the veela, and even in the Top Box, the Weasley boys and a few older men were in some sort of trance. Ron absentmindedly tore up his hat while Harry had one leg resting over the wall.

"It'll wear off," Alec whispered in her ear. Unlike the other boys, he was still seated. "Veela make men go crazy unless they've got the willpower to fight it or don't want to face their angry wives. That's why my uncle looks like he's trying not to wet himself."

"And what about you?" she asked, intrigued.

His gaze locked with hers. "I'll let you figure it out."

Rosalie forgot all about the match, no longer interested in men flying on broomsticks hundreds of feet in the air. Bagman's voice sounded like it was coming from a different planet light years away. Her plan to help Ginny was an afterthought but to herself, she justified that it would help her be more comfortable with flirting with Harry. Several brightly colored blurs zoomed past the Top Box, the match already beginning.

Blocking out the boys' shouting, she turned towards Alec, who was equally uninterested in the match. "So if I didn't come on my own, how would you have rescued me?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Do you have like a wizard swat team?"

"I'd climb through your window," he said, simply. "Wouldn't even need an unlocking charm because you'd have it open for me."  
"That's presumptuous of you," she replied, in amusement.

Ginny was shouting at the referee for a bad call. As Harry joined her, using words he would never dare say in front of her parents, Rosalie used the distraction, everyone else enraptured by the fast-paced game, to scoot close to Alec. She kept her eyes on the field, trying to understand what was happening, aware that his own were roaming over her body.

"If you want some real fun, there's a party down by the lake after the match." His breath tickled her ear. "It's a good chance to get to know your fellow wizards from all over the world and if you want, we can get an early start on your lessons."

"Hermione's tutoring me," she said, keeping her eyes forward.

"Granger's not the type you go for the best kind of lessons," he claimed.

She glanced over at the bushy haired brunette, who was smacking Ron's arm after he nearly spilled butterbeer on her shorts. "I think she's pretty cute. Maybe you're not my type but I'll think about it. I love a good party."

Throughout the match, far more violent than Harry ever described, he did little things to provoke her like 'accidentally' brushing his fingers against her jacket collar, hovering just over her exposed neck, but Rosalie managed to appear clueless. She had trouble understanding most of what was going on, needing some additional commentary from an invested Ginny. The match ended in a way no one expected, aside from Fred and George, with Ireland winning and Krum catching the snitch.

"I have a plan b," she whispered to Ginny, clapping for the Bulgarian and Irish teams entering the Top Box. "It'll be easier to talk to him this time, trust me."

"That was a great match, right?" asked Harry, excitedly.

"Totally awesome." She made eye contact with Alec as he spoke with his uncle and shook hands with the Bulgarian Minister of Magic. "You know what sounds even more awesome? I heard about a party by the lake."

"How—I'm not going to ask," he said, shaking his head. "You could be in the middle of the Arctic and still find out about some party."

Rosalie easily swayed a hesitant Mr. Weasley, playing up her naiveté of the wizarding world and her desire to meet other Hogwarts students before the start of the term. It was not a complete lie, just a half truth that worked in her favor. He agreed on the condition that Bill, Charlie, and Percy joined them as chaperones, Percy looking like he would rather drink a bottle of acid than have any fun.

Heading down to the lake, she whispered little tips to Ginny to get Harry's attention away from his replay of the match with her brothers. The scene was bigger than she imagined, with teenagers dancing to music from a blaring radio, enjoying food and drinks, and swimming in the lake. Charlie warned them not to stray far away, aware that some teenagers were already tipsy.

"I don't need another butterbeer," whined Ginny, as Rosalie dragged her to the line for drinks. "My head's still pounding from one."

"You can just pretend to drink it while you give the other one to him," she explained. "It loosens him up a little. Don't be a chicken this time. If you're too scared, we can take a different approach. Hook you up with someone else to make him jealous. It's not like we're in short supply. Take your pick."

"Told you my theory was right," said a familiar voice. "Weasleys can't help themselves."

The blonde and another stringy boy were standing behind them, both sporting smug smirks. Any trace of friendliness was gone, replaced with a coldness in his eyes. Ginny whipped her head around in anger, clenching her fists.

"What are you two gits going on about?" she spat.

"I was telling Nott about my theory about families like yours, Weasley," he replied, tauntingly. "Outcasts gravitate towards each other, I suppose. It's why blood traitors like to hang around with mudbloods."

People in line visibly reacted to his obvious insult in surprise and contempt, even those around the field who could hear within earshot. Rosalie held onto Ginny's arm, stopping her from lunging at the arrogant blonde.

"Don't call her that, Malfoy!" she shouted, fighting Rosalie's grip.

With one word, everything clicked into place. When Harry wrote her letters from Hogwarts or spoke to her over the summer about his eventful year, he often mentioned a boy in his year who bullied and insulted him on a daily basis. He would go on for entire paragraphs about the annoying Draco Malfoy, the stuck-up, spoiled brat in Slytherin, and how he mistreated Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Never seeing a picture of him, she could not recognize him from his face alone but now his reaction in the Top Box made perfect sense.

Lowering her hand, she stepped towards him, going into attack mode. If one thing was able to set her off, it was someone messing with her family and friends.

She scrunched her nose. "You're the conceited cockroach who picks on my cousin. What makes you think you're so much better than him?"

"I don't think it. It's a fact," he stated, his friend sniggering quietly. "It's also a fact that trash like you doesn't belong with the rest of us. You shouldn't even bother with Hogwarts. Go back to your worthless existence with those other mu—"

Draco staggered backwards, clutching his nose and fresh blood seeping through his fingers. Rosalie lowered her fist, ignoring the stinging in her knuckles.

"Listen here, you egotistical weasel," she hissed. "You don't get to talk to me that way and you're sure as hell not pushing me around like you've done to Harry the past three years. If I find out that you so much as look at him the wrong way while we're at school, I'll end your worthless life and I won't need magic to do it. I'll rip you apart piece by piece until you're a sniveling mess and you'll have to go crawling back to the worms in the dirt that you're descended from, got it? I can tell there's not much going on between those ears so let me make it clearer."

Picking up a butterbeer bottle from the ice bucket on the ground, Rosalie swiftly grabbed the waistband of his slacks and poured out its entire contents. She patted his cheek before walking through the stunned crowd.

"Rosie, that was—well, it was amazing but sort of terrifying," said Ginny, catching up with her. "We should find the others in case Malfoy wants payback."

Alec appeared at Rosalie's side. "I think I can handle him. You can run along. We need to set up our tutoring sessions for the start of term and it's easier to do that now than having to send letters back and forth. That would be a waste of time."

"This is a bad idea," whispered Ginny, sounding unsure. "You shouldn't be alone with Cabot. He's—"

"It's just boring school talk. I'll meet up with you guys when we're done," said Rosalie, brushing off her concerns.

Ginny threw the tall brunette a dirty look before leaving them to find her brothers. As if reading her thoughts, Alec explained that certain wizarding families had better social standings than others and the Weasleys were not top of the ladder, leading to tensions with families like his that garnered a certain respect. Rosalie thought there was more to the story, recalling how Harry reacted to him merely sitting beside her, but held her tongue.

"Merlin, she's intoxicating."

"Do you talk about all of your students that way?" she asked, crossing her arms.

He looked taken aback by her question. "Wh—" His face broke into a mischievous smile. "Technically, I'm just an assistant and the term hasn't started yet but you're welcome to call me Professor."

"I bet you'd love that," she said, taking a sip of her butterbeer. "But I don't play with strangers."

"Then we should change that," he suggested. "Don't worry about Malfoy. He's probably still crying from that right hook."

They sat under a tree by the lake, getting to know each other. Rosalie felt like she was talking about herself for hours, with him genuinely interested in something as mundane as pageants. She would rather hear about growing up in the wizarding world but he somehow considered it boring, despite being the nephew of the Minister of Magic for all of Great Britain.

"Your family will come around," he said, resting his hand over hers. "If they don't, then they don't deserve you."

Rosalie tensed up at the sound of terrified screams, louder than any singing and cheering from the young crowd. One moment, Alec was squeezing her hand and the next, she was in the middle of the woods. Keeping his arm around her, he pressed a finger to his lips, a warning to stay quiet. People were running past them in fear, holding onto their loved ones or searching for them in the chaos.

In the distance was a small crowd of masked people moving together amongst a roar of drunken laughter and jeers and destroying tents and the campsites, creating an intense, growing fire. Following the direction of their wands pointed upwards, Rosalie saw four figures floating in midair and contorted into grotesque shapes. A green light from one of the wands illuminated the figures, revealing them to be Mr. Roberts and what she supposed was his wife and two children. His wife flipped upside down, struggling to keep her nightdress from falling, while his son spun around like a top, to the amusement of their attackers.

"Don't," said Alec, stopping her from leaving their hiding spot. "They'll hurt someone like you…a muggleborn. You need to stay here and let the Ministry handle it. I can see the aurors heading towards them."

"I have to find Harry," she insisted. "What if he's—"

"He's fine," he argued, forcing her behind the tree. "He's probably somewhere out here with the Weasleys and when this is over, we'll find them, I promise. This isn't a game. Those lunatics will kill you without a second thought."

Her own well-being was the last thing on her mind. "Then we should find them now before—"

Rosalie cupped her hands over her ears, startled by a shrill ringing. It was as if someone was at her side, screaming like a banshee. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she stumbled away from the tree. In between the ringing was a mixture of muffled voices ("Rose, what is it?" asked Alec), sounding increasingly panicked.

"I—it's too loud," she stuttered. "I can't—make it stop. I just want it to stop!"

Her wish was apparently granted, the ringing ending in a split second. She discovered Alec in front of her, his fingers inches from her cheek, but there was something off about him. He seemed to be frozen in place, an immovable statue. She touched the palm of his hand but he remained perfectly still. Wondering if she cast another freezing charm, she tried to think of a way to reverse it but she did not even know how she cast the first spell.

"It's temporary. There's no need to fret."

Rosalie stepped back as one of the masked men entered the woods. Ice blue eyes were visible through the mask's snake-like slits, sending a shiver down her spine. An enormous glittering, green skull formed in the sky, a snake protruding from its mouth, eliciting screams from the crowd.

"I won't harm you, little one," he said, lowering his wand. His unsettling smile showed under the bottom half of the mask. "Look at you, all grown up."

She picked up a thin twig, hoping it looked like a wand in the darkness. "S—stay away. Whatever you did to him, stop it."

He glanced over at Alec. "Oh, this wasn't my doing. Untrained and yet so impressive…so much untapped potential…and I can help you. Don't you want answers, Rosalie? Come with me."

"H—how—"

A sudden crack interrupted her, followed by a jet of red light emerging from the trees. The man blocked the spell and vanished from the woods. She almost had a heart attack when she felt fingers against her cheek. Before she could say a word to the confused Alec, Bill, sporting a deep gash on his forearm, hurried towards them.

"Rosie, are you all right? Let's get you back to the others." He steered her away from Alec, ignoring his questions. "I'll take it from here, Cabot. You've got your own family to get back to, don't you?"

She silently walked with him through the campsite, the masked men gone but all sorts of wreckage left in their wake. Between the still smoking tents, she spotted families tending to each other and hurriedly packing their belongings to return home. Fred, George, Ginny, Percy, and Charlie were already in the tent, looking shaken and both Percy and Charlie sporting injuries. Abandoning her cup of tea, Ginny practically launched herself at Rosalie.

"Rosie, I'm so sorry," she said, speaking a mile a minute. "I told my dad that you were still with Cabot going over tutoring sessions but I should've dragged you back with us. I didn't know—did something happen?"

"She's fine," replied Bill, pulling out a chair for Rosalie. "Take a breath, Gin."

He conjured another cup of tea and used a bedsheet to stem the bleeding from his arm. Just as she lifted the cup to her lips, the flap opened again and Mr. Weasley entered the tent with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry's embrace was reminiscent of her mother's bone-crushing ones and when he finally loosened his grip, he inspected every inch of her for any scratches.

"She was with Cabot," said Bill, healing his arm. "One of them must've frozen him but I scared him off before he got close to her."

"You didn't say one of those nuts was there too," pointed out Fred. "Doesn't that seem like something worth mentioning?"

"You're sure they didn't hurt you?" Harry asked her. Her mind still racing, she nodded. "You're definitely sure? Did you hear them say a bunch of words? What if they hexed you and you don't know it?"

Harry's fears were not assuaged by Bill's assurances that he checked for any possible hexes or curses. He continued to sit beside her as Mr. Weasley discussed the attack. Rosalie was lost in her own thoughts, barely listening to the strange tale of Mr. Crouch's house elf having Harry's wand and being accused of casting the skull in the sky, what he called the Dark Mark.

Fighting with Percy over the house elf's termination, a wrongful one in Hermione's eyes, she mentioned that the mark was Voldemort's symbol, Mr. Weasley continuing to explain that his followers used it to symbolize whenever they killed during the war. Seeing it above one's house was one of their greatest fears, which was why people reacted so strongly to its presence during the attack.

Rosalie was thinking about the strange man, a death eater according to Mr. Weasley. It was the name for Voldemort's supporters and the attackers were likely those who evaded death or prison. How did he know her name and why did it seem like they had met before tonight? If the death eaters enjoyed torturing and killing muggles, why had he spared her?

Mr. Weasley ordered them to get to bed, wanting a few hours of sleep before returning to the Burrow. Following Ginny and Hermione to the other tent, after promising to wake Harry if she had any nightmares, she had the strange feeling that someone was watching her from the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any feedback is appreciated :)


	3. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

"Don't panic, happens all the time."

The pieces of the shattered vase spun in the air, repairing themselves. It was Rosalie's tenth failed attempt at finding the proper wand. When Mrs. Weasley mentioned visiting Diagon Alley to purchase their school supplies, Rosalie did not mind her overprotectiveness (unsurprising considering the events of the World Cup), keeping her latched to her side, too excited to get a wand to practice spells instead of reading about them from one of Hermione's books. Her excitement soon dwindled to self-doubt, certain that Dumbledore had made a mistake.

The elderly Mr. Ollivander did not share her concern, insisting that young witches and wizards rarely found their perfect match on the first try. He seemed to revel in the challenge, his eagerness never faltering, and searched through the stacks of boxes that lined the walls.

"Your cousin was tricky himself," he said, reaching for a box to his left. "Hmm, perhaps this is the one. It's a bit unusual. Elm and phoenix feather, nine and a half inches, and swishy. One of my earlier creations and it never quite found its match."

The moment Rosalie grasped the thin wand, her thumb brushing over the spiral pattern on the handle, a sudden warmth spread through her hand and golden sparks shot out of the tip, illuminating her face. Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Ollivander clapped enthusiastically, though she considered it an overreaction to such a simple display. After paying for her wand, they continued around Diagon Alley, gathering supplies. Being in such a fantastical place should have brought her joy but all she could think about was Mina, who was back in Surrey and unaware of her magical abilities.

It was the longest she had been apart from her best friend and it pained her to keep the truth from her, despite the fact that it sounded absurd. Who would believe that she was buying potion ingredients and exchanging her money with goblins? As far as Mina knew, she was being sent to some boarding school in Switzerland by her father to focus on her studies.

Their last stop was Flourish and Blotts, a shop with books that spoke aloud when opened and ones the size of postage stamps. Distracted by the moving pictures on the covers, Rosalie nearly lost Mrs. Weasley in the bustling crowd. She found herself wanting to buy every book, even if it was not necessary for classes. While Mrs. Weasley sifted through the secondhand section, she walked along the rows, searching for her Ancient Runes book and finding it on a higher shelf.

She stood up on her tiptoes but as she grasped the book, another caught her eye, a thick red leather book covered in strange symbols. Her stupor was broken by someone knocking into her side. Turning her head, she internally groaned at the sight of Draco. Judging by his expression, he had not forgotten about their last encounter at the World Cup. Despite Harry's insistence that he could handle any insults the snooty blonde threw his way, Rosalie refused to back down from her promise to retaliate if he retained his bullying ways. She was unconcerned with the fact that he had years of magical training over her.

"Ugh and here I was, having a good day." He peered around the shelves. "Where's your cousin, saving a cat from a tree? I'm sure the Daily Prophet will want a picture for the front page."

She lowered her hand, holding the Ancient Runes book. "Just me, actually, and I think you meant to say 'sorry'."

"Why would I apologize to a brat like y—ugh!" Rosalie had quickly clamped the book on his nose, leaving a bright red mark. "If you try that again, I'll—"

Before he could finish, she hit him a second time. "Didn't catch that. Were you apologizing for bumping into me? How sweet. I accept your apology and feel free to keep up with your quest, Frodo," she said, indicating his velvet-lined black cloak. "Wouldn't want you to be late on your way to Mordor."

He looked at her strangely, not understanding the reference. "Let me tell you how this world works, Dursley. You're as significant as the dirt on the bottom of my shoe. I'm the one with the power and the sooner you realize that, the better. I'm sure you thought your little stunt by the lake was cute but messing with a Malfoy is a death wish. Wise up and fall in line or else."

"Is this git bothering you?" she heard.

Another girl almost as tall as him, her chestnut brown hair in a fishtail braid, walked around the corner. A paint set was sticking out of her messenger bag that was covered with animated stickers.

"He was asking me to look at his bowtruckle," replied Rosalie, remembering a passage in Hermione's creature book.

The girl scoffed at a bewildered Draco. "That's a new low for him. Well, lucky I'm here to save you from this troll. Let's leave him to torment some other poor soul."

Leading her over to the Charms section, the girl introduced herself ("I'm Lizzie, by the way") and helped with the rest of her list. In a short time, they had gotten to know each other and while Rosalie initially showed hesitation at her mention of being in Slytherin, she learned that Lizzie did not fit Harry's typical description of them as arrogant and spoiled. Waiting in line to purchase her books, behind a group of women gushing over a book by someone named Gilderoy Lockhart, Lizzie showed off some of her drawings, the sketches enchanted to move like the paintings on the walls of the shop.

Lizzie looked down at her watch, quietly swearing to herself. "I have to go meet my father at the apothecary. He's all about being punctual. I'll see you on the train, Rosie, and if Malfoy bothers you again, mention Pansy and it's like an instant silencing charm."

Upon returning to the Burrow, she helped organize the many bags of supplies in the kitchen. "I think we chose wisely." Mrs. Weasley held up bottle green robes. "Harry will look lovely in this. It'll bring out his eyes."

"I'm excited to see him at a dance," said Rosalie, gathering her books. "He never went to ones back home."

The morning of the first term could be described in one word: chaos. In between ensuring all of her children and Rosalie, Harry, and Hermione were properly packed, Mrs. Weasley had to contend with Fred and George hiding more of their inventions in their trunks and Ron attempting to toss his lacy dress robes into the fireplace. Mr. Weasley was busy himself, helping Mad-Eye Moody, a former auror ("A dark wizard catcher," explained Charlie) who was slightly unstable in his old age. Moody had enchanted his trash bins to explode at a supposed intruder, alerting the policemen in the surrounding area.

Harry was staring out the window, droplets of rain splattering against the glass. "I'm sure Hedwig is fine." Rosalie lowered her voice. "Sirius too. Maybe he's waiting for the weather to clear up before sending her back."

"I know," he replied, grabbing her trunk. "I was checking for Cabot."

Ever since the World Cup, Harry subjected her to daily anti-Alec tirades. He droned on for hours about the 'distrustful, conceited snake' and his playboy reputation. Though Alec had never personally bullied Harry during his years as a student, he viewed all Slytherins as the same. The mere mention of Alec started him up again, this time going on about his week of detention from McGonagall for skipping classes.

"Are you listening to me?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Pretending to," she joked, fixing her lipgloss in the mirror. "Alec's my tutor so deal with it."

"Cabot isn't your anything," he insisted. "Hermione's more than capable of helping you with classes."

She turned on her heel. "If he wasn't good enough, then I don't think he'd be a teacher's assistant."

"Oh please. It's not a real job," he argued, as Hermione, Ron, and Ginny entered the kitchen. "We've never had assistants before. Fudge made it up to cover up that Cabot was a slacker and couldn't get a job on his own merits and to hide that, he let other kids who graduated participate too. It's a load of dung. Cabot's only after one thing and it's not making sure you pass Potions."

"Definitely not," agreed Ron, wincing when Hermione elbowed his ribs. "Cabot's a smarmy git. He'll be like a mini Snape, giving the Slytherins points for nothing. You might not even have time for tutoring, Rosie, if Carrow gets a say. She'll make sure they've got a lot of private sessions."

Hermione shuddered. "Vivienne Carrow," she told a curious Rosalie. "She's horrid. When she's not making some girl cry in the bathroom, she's all over Cabot like a leech. She claims they've been in an arranged marriage since she was six. Last year, she hexed Patricia Stimpson so badly for accidentally bumping into him on the staircase that she was in the hospital wing for a month. On the train ride home, she still had a bit of a limp."

Mrs. Weasley ushered them out the door, to the three taxis waiting in the yard. The drivers looked displeased with having to lug seven heavy trunks in the pouring rain, along with a hyper owl. Rosalie climbed into a taxi with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Harry loudly coughed when the driver's eyes lingered a bit too long on her in the rearview mirror.

Arriving at the train station, Rosalie opened the door, dreading her hair getting wet but she remained surprisingly dry. Glancing up, she noticed that the rain trickled around her, never touching her hair or body, as if she was protected by an invisible bubble. Nudged forward by a hand to her back, the rain started to hit her hand and she quickly pulled her hood over her head. Harry warned her about controlling her magic, needing to keep it hidden in the muggle world.

Taking her hand, he led her through the crowd. She was wary when he stopped at the wall dividing platforms nine and ten, explaining that it was a secret barrier to the Hogwarts Express. Her first thought was that it was revenge for the day before, teasing him over his crush on Cho after he blushed at the mention of her name by Fred during their discussion about the upcoming quidditch season. Following his example, she leaned against the wall and felt her shoulder sinking through solid bricks and soon enough, she was in a completely different station, a scarlet red engine on the tracks.

Unlike King's Cross, magic was on full display, with owls flying around and people openly casting spells. A woman was chastising her daughter, conjuring a scarf and wrapping it around her neck while a few feet away, a boy was cleaning his cat's carrier with a wave of his wand. As they said their goodbyes, Bill and Charlie were being strangely cryptic, hinting at an interesting school year and a possible visit. Neither budged at Fred and George's incessant prodding, cut short by a shrill whistle.

Mrs. Weasley pulled her in for one last hug. "You'll have a wonderful time, Rosalie. Don't be nervous. It can be quite daunting at first but you'll find your footing. You're welcome in our home anytime."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," she said, appreciatively.

Stepping on the train, she was ambushed by a girl with silky, pin-straight ebony hair. Already dressed in her Hogwarts uniform, sporting a blue and bronze tie and a badge that read Head Girl, the girl ("Kendra Chu," she stated, her stern tone making her seem more like an adult than a teenager) held out her hand but did not give Rosalie much time to shake it or even say her own name. Before Harry could say a single word, Ron muttering about hoping to avoid her this year, Kendra shoved a letter in his face, similar to the acceptance letter but with much more writing.

According to her, she was instructed to be a guide for Rosalie, informing her of all of the important rules and having her meet with the prefects, older students trusted with upholding the rules along with the professors. Kendra walked down the corridor, leaving Rosalie to hand her trunk to Harry and catch up with her. Near the front of the train, they entered a carriage occupied by a boy who looked very similar to Kendra, aside from the stone-faced expression. Hearing the door, he shut his quidditch book and placed it on his lap.

"This is Jacob. We're twins, if it wasn't obvious," said Kendra, sitting beside him.

He waved at Rosalie. "It's nice to—"

"Have you been sorted yet?" Kendra interrupted, curtly. A stunned Rosalie shook her head. "Well, it's fairly easy. It's done in front of the entire school but I doubt Professor McGonagall will have you sorted with the first years. You can get a say with the sorting hat, if you were thinking about wanting to join your cousin in Gryffindor, but personally, I wouldn't let familial relations dictate my choices."

Any attempts to get to know the twins better were thwarted by Kendra redirecting the conversation to less personal matters like curfews and dress code, sometimes speaking over her brother. His look of silent resignation suggested that it was a common occurrence. As the train began to move, the door opened, the carriage filling up with several chattering teenagers, some wearing badges with a large P over a lion, a badger, a snake, or an eagle. She recognized some of them from the party at the World Cup.

Kendra ended their personal conversations by blatantly clearing her throat, earning sarcastic eye rolls from her peers. A few boys personally greeted Jacob, his sister visibly disgruntled by the display, before taking their seats. Forcing themselves to face the strait-laced Head Girl, after she threatened to report their insubordination to Dumbledore, they noticed Rosalie, their irritated glances replaced with curious stares, the boys' eyes traveling lower than her face. One girl stood out among the others, due to her narrowed ice blue eyes.

Kendra snapped her fingers to get their attention. "This is Rosalie. She's a new student who's getting a late start, obviously. She'll be in fourth year and seeing as—"

"You're the girl who punched Malfoy at the Cup, aren't you?" asked a girl with a strong Scottish accent, grinning. "That was hilarious."

"That's not relevant, Fiona," replied Kendra. "As I was saying, Rosalie is muggleborn so it may be more difficult for her to adjust to her new surroundings." The prefects with snakes on their badges, presumably Slytherins, now resembled the other girl, looking at her like she was a speck of dirt. "I thought it would be helpful if she met all of us since we are the ones who set a certain standard for the school. As much as I would rather do everything myself, I have to trust that you're capable of some responsibility. Before things get too crazy, she'll need a tour of the castle so it should ideally be done tonight. Who would like to show her around? Girls only."

Dejected, the boys lowered their hands. The door opened a third time, revealing Alec, and with the way the glaring girl batted her eyelashes, while adding extra curl to her golden blonde hair by twirling it around her finger, Rosalie knew that she must be Vivienne Carrow, his imaginary or possibly real fiancee.

"Wow, Chu, you really do suck the fun out of any space," he joked, the Slytherin boys openly sniggering. "I'm here for the new girl. Dumbledore figured she needed someone else to show her the ropes…someone who wouldn't bore her into throwing herself off the Astronomy Tower on the first night."

"Why should I believe a word out of your mouth, Cabot?" she growled, ignoring Jacob's quiet plea to not start a fight. "You're not even supposed to be on the train. It's students only…unless they did the proper thing and have you repeating seventh year."

"Right, you need it to be official. I've got that covered." Reaching into his leather jacket pocket, he handed her a folded up piece of parchment. "There you go, your highness."

Her shrewd eyes skimmed over the note. "This says because I can. It's not—Cabot!"

Alec had taken Rosalie's hand and pulled her out of the prefect carriage, the door locking with a soft click. "Trust me, you don't want to suffer through her boring speeches. She learned from the worst, Percy Weasley. She was his little protégé last year."

Her heart was beating out of her chest. Being this close to him brought back memories of him being frozen like a statue and the death eater. She had not gone one night without a nightmare about that moment but she could never figure out how to bring it up to Harry or the others. Who would believe her about some stranger claiming to know her?

"Good to know," she said, avoiding his gaze. "I should get back to Harry. He's already got a compartment and he has my—"

"Ugh, I hate him so much. I can't wait until I can leave that stupid house."

"Just do it. Don't be a coward. She's right there."

"She looks—no, stop it. Think about anything else…like quidditch."

"Rose."

She jumped at the sound of her name. Alec was steadying her wrist, which had been trembling, silver sparks bouncing off her fingertips. Instead of the corridor, they were inside another compartment, two trunks, including her own, in the luggage rack.

"You went rigid and I didn't think it would be good if other people saw you like that," he said, letting go of her wrist. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"No," she replied, bluntly. "I want to find Harry."

He pressed his hand against the door, keeping it closed. "Is this about the Cup? My dad was helping to smooth over all that mess with Rita Skeeter and I overheard Arthur Weasley say you almost got attacked by a death eater. He must've been the one who froze me. I'm sure it was terrifying. Do you want to talk about it? We don't have to but until you've calmed down, it's best if you're not around a lot of people. Unpredictable magic can be difficult to counter, even for someone as smart as Granger."

Cautiously taking his advice, she grabbed her trunk and dropped it on the seat to prevent him from sitting beside her. She unlocked the trunk to search for one of her magazines but instead of the latest copy of Vogue, she found a familiar red leather book, the one she had spotted in Flourish and Blotts. Having never purchased it, how did it end up with her belongings? To her confusion, the pages were completely blank. Not wanting to draw any suspicion from Alec, she grabbed her magazine and shut her trunk.

Keeping herself immersed in its contents, to avoid an awkward conversation, she saw the door open from the corner of her eye. "Here you are, you toerag. You really had to leave me with that slimeball Puce—Rosie!"

To her surprise, Lizzie was standing in the doorway. She looked much more dolled up than that day in Diagon Alley.

"What are you doing with my brother?" she asked, intrigued.

Seeing them side by side, with their dark hair and tall height, she could not deny the resemblance. "Brother?"

"Half brother," corrected Alec.

Lizzie stuck out her tongue. "Loving as ever. Isn't he a charmer? Makes you wonder why all the girls fall head over heels for him. In my opinion, he's laced his cologne with a love potion. I was hoping I'd see you on the train. I thought I saw you with the Weasleys but then I got cornered by Adrian Pucey because someone said I fancy him at our father's last summer party."

"Who would do that?" he asked, feigning concern.

Rosalie could not help the tiniest smile, being heavily reminded of Mina and Evan. Feeling slightly more comfortable, she moved her trunk back to the luggage rack to make space for Lizzie, who used a handkerchief to wipe away her ruby red lipstick. She lamented that her father always had her dress a certain way on the first day, to make a good impression.

"He's all about perfection," she said, exasperated. "You'd think it would've driven me mad by now…maybe it has and I don't know it. But enough about that lunatic, why are you sitting with my brother?"

He froze her scrunched up handkerchief in midair, before it struck his face. "Dumbledore wants me to be her guide."

"He picked you…instead of someone like Penelope Clearwater?" Lizzie shook her head. "Old age must be getting to him. I don't see much guiding. What did you start with, the best snogging spots? You're supposed to save that for the end. Let's go find the candy trolley before all the good stuff is gone."

"I should've pushed her onto the tracks. We'd all be better off," she heard Alec mutter under his breath.

Turning in the doorway, with Lizzie already ten steps ahead, she put her hands on her hips. "That's really mean. You shouldn't talk about your sister like that."

Instead of apologizing or being shocked that she overheard him, he smirked. "I knew it." She inched back as he rose from his seat. "I wondered when we were by the lake and then when we were hiding in the woods. Explains what happened in the corridor too. Being in the magical world must've amplified it."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, thinking he had gone mental.

"You're a legilimens," he said, a tone of awe in his voice.

The way he spoke, so simple and obvious, only puzzled her more, sounding more like a foreign language. Through all of the stories from Harry's past years at Hogwarts and reading Hermione's books at the Burrow, she did not understand what was a legilimens was or how it pertained to her experience at the lake. Sliding the door shut, he explained what he meant, that she was able to see into people's minds. He brushed off her assumption of being a mind reader, like in Evan's comics, calling it a rare and advanced magical ability. While some wizards were able to do it from birth, others learned it through intense training and skill.

"I've heard of some legilimens being able to hear inner thoughts." She sat beside him, forgetting all about Lizzie. "It requires a lot of power. Most people can only see into someone's head…into their memories but you're doing it without any training. It's unreal."

"Is there a way to get rid of it?" she asked, feeling anxious.

Alec looked at her in disbelief. "Why would you want that? It's not something to be afraid of, Rose. It's a gift."

"It just—it feels like an invasion of privacy." Being new to magic was hard enough without the additional trouble of accidentally reading someone's mind. "I don't want to hear things that I shouldn't. What if someone finds out that I heard some secret and then—"

A glowing blue butterfly emerged from his hand and as it floated past her, she felt a calming sensation. "It's a spell to give you peace. I can help," he offered. "My father's a skilled legilimens and he's been teaching me over the summer…occlumency too. It's a defense against a wizard creeping around in your head for information. He thinks every great wizard should know both."

It seemed unfair to have him help her when he had to watch over hundreds of students. "What if it's a waste of time?"

She was taken aback by him tilting up her chin, his gaze locked with hers. "You're not a waste of anything, Rose. Don't ever think that."

The tense moment was interrupted by a loud banging sound, followed by Lizzie stumbling into the compartment with a handful of sweets. She ducked below the window, panting.

"I swear Pucey is tracking me with a charm. He keeps—" Alec lowered his head as she chucked a round, brightly colored package. "Oy, assistant professor, personal space."

"We were talking, you nutter," he scowled.

"Oh, were you?" she asked, mockingly. She purposely sat between them, shoving him into the wall. "I love talking. Let's talk about candy since Rosie has never had any from the wizarding world, which is mind-blowing. What do you want to try first? My personal favorite is a peppermint toad. Professor, your opinion?"

"That I'm about to give you a month of detention for being annoying," he replied, swiping a chocolate frog from the pile. His eyes flickered to the partially open door. "You won't get over Francis by hiding yourself away, Lizzie! There are plenty of guys to help you get over him!"

Lizzie wrinkled her nose. "Did you break into dad's liquor stash before we left? Who the hell is Fr—"

The door slid open, a group of boys standing outside in the corridor. Some seemed closer to Alec's age while a few were the same age as Rosalie, including the stringy boy Draco referred to as Nott. Lizzie's quiet murmurs ("Merlin, strike me down. Let me get eaten by a Horntail.") and Alec holding back a grin helped Rosalie realize that the tall, muscular boy looking at her like a hot fudge sundae must be Adrian Pucey, her persistent admirer. He was one of the boys she had seen in the prefect carriage, imitating Kendra behind her back. Draco was standing behind him, looking like his usual smug self.

"You're not avoiding me, are you, Lizzie?" asked Adrian, amused. "If you're looking to get over a summer fling, I'm available."

"I think she's good," said Rosalie, sensing that Lizzie was seconds from puking up a peppermint toad.

His hazel green eyes passed over her in interest. "Oh look, you've got a pet mudblood."

"That's enough, Pucey," said Alec, the boys immediately ceasing their snickers. He secretly stopped Lizzie from reaching for her wand. "All we need is for her to go whining to Potter and then Dumbledore will give you all detention for getting him upset."

"Suppose you're right." He stepped into the compartment. "All the other ones are pretty full so you won't mind if we stay in here, right?"

The boys piled into the compartment, with no regard for personal space. Rosalie held her breath for a moment, adjusting to the overwhelming scent of colognes, while Lizzie avoided any eye contact with Adrian, who directly sat across from her. Though she held a determined stare at the wall, she blocked two boys, looking like they shared half a brain cell between them, from reaching for her candy stash.

"Malfoy, tell your goons to get their own food," she said, moving the sweets to her other side. "This is for me and Rosie only."

"It's polite to share. Didn't your father teach you any manners?" Hearing Rosalie giggle behind her magazine, his head snapped in her direction. "Something funny, Dursley?"

"Just remembering when you wet your pants again…like you did at the World Cup." His right eye twitched at the mention of the incident. "You really should get that problem checked by a doctor."

"I never—"

Pop.

A wet spot formed on the front of his slacks. When he walked into the compartment, she had slipped one of Fred and George's joke products into his pocket, a capsule filled with blue slime that exploded in minutes. Lizzie stifled her laughter by biting into another peppermint toad. Standing on his feet in anger, Draco was immediately shoved back down by Alec, who easily dwarfed him in height and muscle.

"Manners, Malfoy. Don't think you'll get special treatment from me," he warned. He erased the stain with a wave of his wand. "I'd think very carefully of what you do next."

Weighing his options, he chose to pout like a petulant child. "Let this play out, Alec," said the boy next to Adrian. "Nothing wrong with a little fighting. Besides, I like a muggle with some bite."

"No one's fighting, Graham," replied a disapproving Alec. "I don't need Chu popping up and lecturing me about you all being immature so this ends now. Lizzie, you started this so let them have the damn candy. You're not eating it all by yourself."

"Wh—but they'll take all the good ones. I d—ugh, fine," she grumbled. "Peppermint toads are off-limits so what do you want, Malfoy? You get one."

"A cauldron cake," he muttered.

Rosalie scooped up the three cauldron cakes and threw them out the partially open window. "Oops, my bad."

Another argument was spared by the arrival of a dismissive Kendra. Unaware of the hostility in the air, she advised them to change into their uniforms, the train nearing the station. Lizzie flipped Adrian off when he offered to help her change, ignoring Alec's expression that Rosalie knew well: the overprotective older brother. They waited out in the corridor for the boys, aside from Alec, to change their clothes.

"Don't worry about Draco," assured Lizzie, banging on the door when the shadows behind it remained still. "He wouldn't be dumb enough to pick a fight around Alec. All these idiots practically worship my brother."

"He was popular when he was a student?" asked Rosalie, suspecting that was the case.

"Understatement. Be prepared for a lot of girls to be begging for private tutoring sessions," she said, disgusted. "Vivienne will be first in line. She threw a tantrum when her father wouldn't let her go to the World Cup with him because she already had plans for some high society tea party with her mother. You definitely want to steer clear of her."

As Lizzie went on about who to avoid at Hogwarts, Rosalie noticed someone watching her: an older girl leaning against the wall. No one else seemed to acknowledge her, which she found strange considering her attire (a parka, boots, and knapsack) and her overall disheveled appearance.

"Who's that?" Rosalie asked, interrupting Lizzie's nasally impression of Vivienne.

"Jacob Chu?" she said, eyeing Jacob as he confiscated a dung bomb from two younger boys. "Didn't you meet him in the prefect carriage? He and Kendra are pretty much attached at the hip. I don't think he can even go to the bathroom without her permission."

"No, I meant—" The girl was no longer there, replaced by a group of boys talking excitedly about some famous quidditch player. "Never mind."

Getting dressed in the uniform, Rosalie could not shake the strange feeling in her gut. She blamed it on her lack of sleep the past few nights. Brushing bits of dust from her pleated skirt, she jumped back when the girl's face appeared in the window, knocking into something firm. Alec steadied her, holding her waist with one hand.

"Scared of the thunder?" he teased. Playing along, she feigned a laugh to hide her discomfort. "Come on, the train's about to stop."

He grabbed her trunk from the luggage rack. She glanced back at the window, seeing just the pouring rain, before following him and Lizzie out of the compartment. Most students were running off the train, covering their heads with their hands. The rainy weather and freezing temperature proved to be a bad combination, making Rosalie shiver the second she stepped off the train.

Removing his coat, he draped it around her shoulders. "Thanks," she said, grateful for the extra warmth.

He managed to repel the heavy rain with a charm. With everyone scrambling for a carriage, she lost Lizzie in the crowd.

"She'll be fine," he said, leading her towards an empty carriage. "If she has to ride with Pucey, she won't die."

Climbing into the carriage, she noticed the horses pulling it, if she could call them horses. The creatures had a skeletal body, with bits of black flesh clinging to the visible bones, white, pupil-less eyes, and wide, leathery wings. No one else was paying them any attention, likely because the students were used to their presence.

"Rose." She turned away from the window, having stared at the creatures as they pulled the carriage along the dirt path. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah, I'm um…I guess I'm a little nervous," she said, telling a partial lie. "This still feels like a weird dream. Were you nervous when you came here the first time? Getting sorted and all that?"

"Not really," he said, casually. "I already knew I'd be in Slytherin since my family's been in there for centuries and I knew loads of people from all the parties my father forced me to over the years. I suppose it's different for you, being around muggles all your life, but I don't think you'll have trouble fitting in."

"I could use my mind-reading powers," she suggested. "It's like a fun party trick."

Though she had not meant it seriously, he looked uneasy. "I wouldn't mention it to anyone. Let's keep it between us…at least until we have a better understanding of it."

Further up the winding path, Hogwarts slowly came into view, the enormous castle simultaneously beautiful and daunting. Rosalie could not take her eyes off of it, even as the carriage halted in front of a flight of stone steps. Climbing out of the carriage, she joined the crowd hurrying through the pair of oak doors. Hardly one step through the doorway, there was a series of screams as people dodged colorful water balloons that exploded near their feet or on top of their heads. A little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie floated above them, holding more balloons. Rosalie's eyes widened when he passed through the hanging chandelier.

"That's Peeves," explained Alec, as two girls dodged a green balloon in fright. "He's a poltergeist who loves to cause chaos. He'll do a lot worse throughout the year, believe me. I'm sure one of the professors is looking for the Bloody Baron to control him."

"Is that like a security guard?" she asked, hoping to not be a target.

Alec chuckled. "He's a ghost. You'll see loads of them around the castle but they're harmless. Peeves doesn't listen to many people but the Bloody Baron can reign him in when needed. He's the Slytherin house ghost."

Rosalie expected Hogwarts to be different from Smelting's but it was surreal to see demon horses and ghosts treated as common as a pigeon. A stern-faced woman in emerald green robes stormed into the Hall, yelling angrily at the mischievous Peeves. After she almost choked Hermione, in her attempt to not slip on the wet floor, Peeves vanished up the marble staircase.

Straightening her pointed hat, she ordered the students into the Great Hall. "Cabot." She walked towards Alec. "You understand that you were expected at the castle hours ago?"

"My apologies, professor," he said, flashing her a smile. "My sister's been having some boy troubles and my father asked me to join her on the train to alleviate her stress. When I happened to bump into Rosalie, I thought it would be a good opportunity to get an early start on my duties as her guide, as assigned by Professor Dumbledore."

The stern professor's face remained unchanged. "How noble. I hope you will take such a hands-on approach with all of our students. I will take it from here. Take your seat in the Great Hall." She raised a finger as he opened his mouth. "Miss Dursley must be sorted and that does not require your assistance. I strongly advise you that if you socialize with your former housemates, it is in a professional manner only. Come along, dear."

As Rosalie gave back his coat, his fingers brushed against her palm. McGonagall brought her to a chamber on the left side of the hall, to wait for the first years to arrive from the lake.

"I remember you." She thought McGonagall stiffened slightly. "Harry said you can turn into a cat and the markings on your eyes are like your glasses. I saw you outside the house a lot the summer he got his first letter."

"Knowing your family's…aversion to magic, Professor Dumbledore wanted to ensure that he received it," she replied, clasping her hands in front of her. "He would've intended to give yours as well and it may have taken awhile longer but you are where you belong."

"We can't do the sorting somewhere private for me?" she wondered. "I'm short but I think I'll stick out and doing it in private won't make everyone think I'm weird."

"You are not in any way odd, Miss Dursley," she insisted. "I'm well aware of what some students may believe in regards to attending Hogwarts and learning magic but you are not defective. Your path is simply different but you will end in the same place."

Before Rosalie could ask if she had read that in a fortune cookie, the side door opened, dozens of shivering, drenched students stumbling into the chamber. With little effort, she could hear all of their fears and worries, from embarrassing themselves in front of the entire school to being sorted in a certain house. One of the boys, buried under a giant moleskin coat, stood out, bouncing on his heels. The last through the door was Hagrid, looking as massive as ever. When she had first seen him, having arrived at their hut in the middle of nowhere to retrieve Harry to get his supplies, she thought he was a monster but soon learned that he was kind and gentle. Hunched down, he gave her a small smile before leaving through the same door.

Clearing her throat, reminding Rosalie strongly of Kendra, McGonagall began a long lecture about the sorting ceremony and the house point system. Getting them in a single line, many boys scrambling to stand behind Rosalie, she led them into the Great Hall. It was ornately decorated with thousands of floating candles over four long tables and a ceiling that appeared to extend to the heavens, reflecting the night sky. At the front of the hall was another long table, occupied by the professors and Dumbledore. She spotted Alec between a hook-nosed man with greasy black hair and a curly-haired girl, who angrily swatted his arm.

Harry waved at her from one of the tables, mouthing words of encouragement. Rosalie kept her eyes on the ceiling, mostly to distract herself from the musings of her peers. She was not hearing it in her head, but through barely audible whispers. Her relation to Harry spread like wildfire, some doubting its validity.

"She's definitely not a first year."

"There's no way she's muggleborn. Look at her."

"You're sure they're related?"

"Who let that mutt in the castle?"

"Bloody hell, I hope she's with us."

McGonagall rested an extremely old, ragged hat on a three-legged stool. Its brim opened wide and it sang about the four founders of Hogwarts. Once it finished, McGonagall unrolled a long scroll of parchment and called out names in alphabetical order. The sorting appeared to be simple enough: sit on the stool, have the hat on their head, it shouted out their house, within seconds or after several minutes, and then that house cheered for their newest member.

"Dursley, Rosalie!"

Her legs feeling like jelly, she stepped forward and sat on the stool. The tattered hat was placed on her head, falling over her eyes.

"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear. "How intriguing. You're a bit older than the ones I usually sort but no matter, we'll find your rightful place. I enjoy the difficult ones. My, such potential for greatness. All that power buried deep inside and you don't even know it, do you, my dear? Don't let your blood fool you. Yes, I think this is the path for you. It will lead you to more than you could ever imagine. SLYTHERIN!"

What followed was an awkward silence. Rosalie was certain she heard it wrong but her plain black tie changed to one with green and silver stripes, the same as the people at the table on the far left. Instead of applause, though she heard a few claps, they looked at her like an alien, aside from Lizzie who enthusiastically clapped at the announcement. Still unsure, Rosalie quietly sat beside her.

"Rosie, this is crazy," she said, amazed. She lowered her voice. "Ignore these bottom feeders. My grandmother told me that there have been some half-bloods in Slytherin and I'm sure some muggleborns too. They just like to pretend to keep up their holier than thou attitudes. Not all of us hate muggleborns anyway, even if your cousin thinks so."

"What if he doesn't talk to me?" whispered Rosalie.

"Then he's an idiot," said Lizzie, matter-of-factly. "Houses don't mean anything. Sure, all of the Weasleys are in Gryffindor and the Chus are in Ravenclaw but there are cases of families being in different houses. Like the Patil twins and my own cousin Tristan was in Hufflepuff. If anyone tries to bully you, I'll scratch out their eyes…but I grew up with these dolts and I know them well. For a girl like you, they'll ignore the whole blood thing."

After the sorting ended and a short speech from Dumbledore ("Tuck in"), a feast appeared on the table. It looked like enough food to feed a small country. She was contemplating whether to talk to Harry when he beat her to it, sneaking onto the bench and receiving nasty glares from the Slytherins for the intrusion.

"Joining us for dinner, Harry?" asked Lizzie, grabbing a bowl of roasted potatoes. "Such a rebel."

"I'd rather eat with a basilisk, Cabot. Ow!" Rosalie had punched his arm. "Let's go talk to Dumbledore. We can have him resort you in his office. Someone must've jinxed the hat. The boy before you was put in Slytherin and I guess it was confused."

"Confused," she repeated. "So you're saying the hat thought I was a boy. Has that happened before? What, did someone get like no house and then they fed the hat some fabric and it was like 'Silly me. Of course you're a Ravenclaw'."

He was not entertained by her sarcasm. "Rosie, come off it," he whispered. "You know you shouldn't be in Slytherin. You're not a spoiled, foul git."

"Neither is Lizzie," she countered. "And just because I'm in Slytherin, it doesn't mean people won't be friends with me."

A red piece of parchment, shaped like a rose, landed in her lap. The petals opened and a golden dust emerged, swirling around to form Hi Beautiful.

"That's so cute. Who—hey!" Harry threw the rose on the floor, stomping it with his shoe. "You're being a grump. For whatever reason, the hat put me here and you need to accept that. We'll talk after dinner."  
"Don't open any more notes," he said, stuffing the torn up rose in his back pocket. "The dust could be enchanted with a love spell."

"Bye, Dudley," she said, knowing the taunt would get under his skin.

His spot was taken by the girl from the prefect carriage, the one who looked like she wanted to strangle Rosalie. There was an unsettling gleam in her icy blue eyes and behind her back, several Slytherins were watching the two girls like it was a thrilling football match.

"Aw, your cousin's so protective, Rina." Lizzie rolled her eyes. "We haven't met yet. I'm Vivienne Carrow."

"Hi Valerie," she replied, seeing through her facade.

Vivienne giggled. "Aren't you adorable? I bet you'll get attention from a couple boys here and since I'm well experienced in that area, I could find you a perfect match. I'm a prefect so you really should take my advice to heart. Whatever you think is going to happen between you and Alec, it won't."

"Damn, that ruins my plans tonight," she said, making Lizzie snort into her pumpkin juice.

"Listen here, you little mudblood," Vivienne snarled. "Alec and I are meant to be and once I'm out of this hellhole of a school, we'll be married, like our families have always planned. You're not worth his time so you should settle for someone more in your league like Longbottom. He's never going to be interested in a mutt like y—hey, handsome."

Alec had walked over to the Slytherin table. Vivienne's expression eerily changed in a split second, from threatening to adoring. She curled her manicured fingers around his bicep.

"I was welcoming our newest Slytherin. A muggleborn in our glorious house…who could've predicted that?" she said, sounding overly sweet. "I was giving her some tips, girl to girl. As prefect, it's important that I take care of my housemates. Don't you agree?"

"Always the compassionate one, Viv," he said, slipping out of her grasp. "Well, if I can interrupt this girl talk, I have to show Rosalie around the castle. I thought it'd be easier to do that while it's quiet."

"An entire life of laziness and now you're so eager to do your job?" asked Lizzie, unimpressed. "Let her eat."

"It's okay. I'm not that hungry," said Rosalie, getting up from the bench. "Thanks for the advice, Vera. I think we're going to be good friends."

"Did I miss something?" he asked, as they left the Great Hall. "Was Vivienne giving you trouble? She can be…a bit much. Don't let her intimidate you."

"Congrats on the wedding." He grimaced at her words. "Where are you two registered?"

"Oh, she gave you that talk, huh?" he said, leading her to a grand marble staircase. "She has an active imagination. I'm not getting married anytime soon but enough about fake weddings. You'll want to be careful with the staircases. They tend to be trick—"

Rosalie hopped back as one of the steps vanished then moved forward two as that same step vanished, before reappearing in seconds. Clutching the railing for balance, she turned toward Alec, who looked stunned.

With one jump, he moved to her side. "How did you know about that?"

"Just did. Maybe it was my spidey sense," she teased. He responded with a blank face. "Like Spiderman? Don't you have comic books? You're missing out. He's a superhero with special powers. He can like sense danger with this thing called a spidey sense. Maybe I have a witch version of it. Do all the staircases try to trip you? Come on, you've got a whole castle to show me."

Shaking himself out of a stupor, Alec continued up the staircase and led her around the vast castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any feedback is appreciated :)


	4. A Ghostly Visitor

"Is this another one of Pansy's rules? Not leaving the common room until her royal prince does first?" asked Rosalie, hiding behind the wall with an apprehensive Lizzie. "I'll be honest. I tuned her out after she said 'Don't ever touch my Drakie with your filthy mudblood hands'. The insults around here are really lacking."

After showing her around the castle, aside from the restricted areas, Alec brought her to their last stop: the Slytherin common room, where she met more Slytherins. Among them was Pansy Parkinson, the self-appointed president of the Draco Malfoy fan club, who attacked Rosalie like a vicious chihuahua before she was fully in the room she shared with the fourth year Slytherin girls. Pansy wasted no time in staking her claim to the blonde prat with intense vigor, warning Rosalie to 'speak to Draco with the proper respect or face the consequences'. Unlike Alec, who did not seem to lead Vivienne on in any way, Draco basked in the attention from Pansy and her clique, though the pug-faced girl was irritated if his gaze ever strayed away from her.

Peeking around the stone wall, Lizzie resembled a head hovering in mid-air. Rosalie followed her gaze to a dark-skinned boy standing beside Draco, who was doing a poor imitation of Harry to raucous laughter from the small group by the fireplace. She did not recognize the boy, who was admittedly handsome with his dark, slanted eyes and high cheekbones, from the train ride or dinner the previous night but he was unimpressed by Draco's antics.

Caught staring at the boy, Lizzie sheepishly admitted her crush on him. She rarely found herself falling for anyone, despite her father's best efforts, but Blaise Zabini was the exception. He missed the first night at the castle, having been on vacation with his mother and her latest husband.

"Make your move," urged Rosalie, as Lizzie ducked behind the wall. "He'd welcome the chance to get away from Malfoy."

"I can barely say two words without sounding like a dork," she lamented.

Rosalie nodded in understanding. "Well, we can't stand here all day. We have to get breakfast and go to class. We can't spend all year on the staircase. Eventually, he'll walk up these same stairs. I can see that your brain is basically mush as I'm talking to you so I will cause a distraction and then we will make a run for it."

Taking out her wand, she cast a charm that caused Draco's pants to fall around his ankles then a leg-locker curse, having seen Fred do the same to Percy one morning at the Burrow. As Draco fell flat on his face, to the horror of his fan club ("Draco, are you hurt?" shrieked Pansy), Rosalie and Lizzie sprinted out of the common room.

"Dursley!" he shouted.

They did not stop running until they reached the Great Hall. "I can't believe you did that," said Lizzie, as they sat at the Slytherin table.

No one paid them much mind, too busy conversing about the Triwizard Tournament. Rosalie had missed more than the feast when she left with Alec. There was an instant uproar from all four houses when Dumbledore, going through the usual school rules, announced that there would be no Quidditch Cup. The anger and confusion turned to excitement when he revealed that in its place, they would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament, a friendly competition between three wizarding schools.

The tournament was discontinued after the high death toll but the British Ministry had been working tirelessly to ensure the safety of its participants. Students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving in October with their headmasters and through an impartial judge, three champions, one from each school, would be chosen for the competition. Though all of the students were eager to win the prize of a thousand galleons, not caring much about bringing glory to their school, most of their hopes were dashed when Dumbledore mentioned the age limit of seventeen. His explanation of the tournament was partially interrupted by the arrival of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Mad Eye Moody.

The scarred ex-auror received little applause, everyone too transfixed by his bizarre appearance. His face looked like it had been stitched back together multiple times but his eyes were the most unsettling part about him. One was normal and beady while the other was large and a vivid blue, spinning in all directions without blinking.

Half-listening to a pair of Slytherin boys discussing how to secretly enter the tournament, with help from an older student, Rosalie watched the scarred professor, who was currently stabbing a sausage with his fork and tearing it into like a wild animal. She could not shake the gut feeling that there was something off about him, besides his constantly moving eye. Her inner thoughts were hampered by Lizzie's panicked yelp. The tall brunette snatched a plate of banana nut muffins from a first year boy ("Hey!" he shouted, in the midst of taking one), making him shift a few seats down with a low growl.

Blaise joined the table, sitting beside Lizzie. "Morning."

"M—morning," she said, a bundle of nerves. "I would've said hi in the common room but—"

"Too busy driving Malfoy mad with your new…friend?" he asked, taking a muffin. His dark eyes passed over Rosalie with a hint of contempt. "It gave the others a good laugh. I suppose Pansy's still consoling him."

"Bet she liked the show. It's the closest she'll get." His lips twitched upward slightly at her joke. "How was Italy with the new husband? Is he a keeper?"

"Depends when my mother gets bored," he said, nonchalantly.

As he told her about his vacation and his stepfather's sad attempts at bonding to appease his mother, Snape walked along the table, handing out course schedules. From what Harry told her, he was a soulless, vicious professor with a penchant for treating the Slytherins better but she doubted, being Harry's cousin, that she would be given that same treatment.

More students entered the Great Hall, including a murderous Draco. Shrugging off Pansy, he made a beeline straight for Rosalie, Crabbe and Goyle at his heels. He sat next to her, a fire blazing in his eyes.

"My mother taught me to be a gentleman so I'll give you the choice, Dursley," he hissed, his wand poking her ribs. "Do you want your death to be quick or slow and painful? I have my preference."

"Malfoy, stop being a baby," said Lizzie, raising her fork like a weapon. "You need to get a sense of humor."

"Shut it, Cabot!" he snapped. "This is between me and this pipsqueak."

Rosalie bit into a strawberry. "Funny, coming from you…probably the one with something little around here." Adrian, Graham, and a couple other boys held back their snickers. "Pansy, feel free to weigh in, if you can, but imagination doesn't count."

Pansy fumed like an angry bull. "Dursley, you better—"

"What is going on here?" Snape had arrived at their end of the table, his brow raised. "Surely the students of my house are not engaging in any immature behavior. It would be most unbecoming of a Slytherin."

"Professor, Dursley played a nasty prank on Draco," said Pansy, acting like it was a terrible crime. "She cast a leg-locker curse that made him fall on his face. He's lucky he didn't get all scratched up."

"I didn't get much practice before I came here and I can hardly make a feather float," replied Rosalie, innocently. "That sounds way too complicated for someone new at magic."

Snape was not fully convinced. "In most cases, yes, but knowing your troublesome cousin, you can understand my skepticism. If you're as innocent as you claim, you'll hand over your wand."

Ignoring Lizzie's warning ("Say you left it in our room," she mouthed), Rosalie placed her wand in his hand. He connected his wand to hers, tip to tip, and muttered an incantation. A ball of light emerged, illuminating his sallow face.

"Yeah, I'm pretty good at that one," she said, happily. "So if anyone is ever stuck in some dark place, I'm your girl."

Subtly curling his lip, either at her optimism or his inability to punish her, he returned her wand. "Let us not make this a habit. I expect better of my students and surely your families do as well." Their course schedules appeared in front of them. "Do not be late to your first lesson."

The Slytherins nodded in silence, unsure if the entire exchange had been a hallucination. Even Lizzie, fearing a very different outcome, looked to Rosalie for an explanation but she brushed it off, pouring herself a glass of water. As he continued down the table, there was a soft rustling sound and a hundred owls soared into the Great Hall, carrying letters and packages. An eagle owl landed on Draco's shoulder, carrying a large package of sweets and making him momentarily forget his anger.

Another owl, cinnamon with black stripes, flew from Alec's seat at the teachers' table to Lizzie. She untied the letter around its leg and tore it in half before letting it drink from a bowl of water.

"My father writes the same thing every year," she said, stroking the owl's head. "I have it memorized by now. I'm sorry he sent you all this way, Athena."

A tawny owl, a red ribbon around its neck, landed in front of Rosalie. Inside the attached satchel was a matching red box.

"That's not the Weasley's owl," said Theodore, suspiciously, when, upon prompting from Lizzie, she claimed that it was from Mrs. Weasley. "Theirs is practically on its last legs."

"They got a new one," she countered.

"Did they sell their house to afford it?" joked Graham.

Slipping the box into her robes, she was about to fight back with a retort but she was cut off by a bell chiming throughout the Great Hall. Everyone rose from the four tables, gathering their belongings. Turning to avoid another lashing from Draco, who was still bitter over her prank and intent on proving her guilt, she found herself face to face with another boy, a Ravenclaw based on his robes. He was gripping the strap of his bag so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"H—hi Rosalie. I'm Anthony. We're not in the same house. I'm in Ravenclaw, if you couldn't tell," he said, rambling and lifting his tie. "We have the same first class so I thought maybe I could show you the way. You know, since you're new and don't know the staircases that well. I could hold your bag for you too…so you don't get distracted."

At the Gryffindor table, she saw Harry watching Anthony like a hawk and being restrained by Ron and Hermione. "Sure," she accepted, with a kind smile. "That's really sweet of you."

His cheeks reddened as he picked up her bag, many Slytherins disgusted by the display. Daphne, Pansy's right-hand, whispered something undoubtedly nasty to Pansy, Millicent, and Tracey.

"Sorry, brain freeze," said Rosalie, digging through the inside of her robes. "I almost forgot, Lizzie. I have to give this back to you. I must've taken it by accident when we were on the stairs this morning."

Draco's disdainful sneer fell as she handed back Lizzie's wand, the one Snape had cast the spell on to catch her in a lie. It looked identical to Rosalie's, aside from the handle. Slowly putting the pieces together, his disdain turned into rage. Lizzie and the rest of the Slytherins were, once again, silent, realizing her trick.

"Dur—"

In his haste to grab her, he stumbled forward and fell, his laces tied together. Looping her arm through Anthony's, she led him through the double doors and over to the crowd on the grand staircase. On the way to Charms, she talked to the shy Anthony, their duo soon becoming a small group with the addition of his friends Michael, Terry, and Stephen. They were not very talkative about themselves, too enraptured with learning more about her.

"Malfoy's not giving you trouble, is he?" asked Michael, as they waited outside the Charms classroom. "If he is, you can tell us. I'm not afraid of him. I'll hex him good."

"I appreciate that but I'm fine," she said, trying not to giggle at his puffed out chest. "If that changes, I know who to call."

Lizzie hurried down the corridor, narrowly avoiding a rusty suit of armor. "As glad as I am that Rosie's making friends, this little chat has to end." The door swung open. "Look at that, time for class. Rosie and I are sitting with each other but we'll talk later."

Taking Rosalie's bag from a puzzled Anthony, she forced her through the door and to a desk at the front of the classroom. Professor Flitwick was standing on a pile of books, writing on a blackboard with his wand.

"Don't look back," warned Lizzie, draping her bag over her chair. "I figured I'm the safest option. Alec and I can't stand each other but if anyone comes after me, he won't hesitate to break a bone. That protection extends to you and you definitely need it. Malfoy will wait for you to be alone so we'll use the Ravenclaws as human shields."

"Lizzie, it was two harmless pranks," said Rosalie, taking out her Charms book. "Call it payback for all the times he insulted Harry. He'll get over it."

Both girls jumped as a pair of hands slammed down on their desk. "This is gonna end now, Dursley," snarled Draco, his voice low and threatening. "You, me, a duel on the quidditch pitch at dinner. I considered public humiliation but I don't need a professor taking pity on a mudblood and giving me detention for teaching you a proper lesson. You're going to regret what you did."

"Malfoy, come off it. She can't duel," argued Lizzie. "Snape might not do anything to his golden pupil but you won't have that same luck with another professor."

Flitwick instructed him to find a seat. "It's up to you, Dursley, but if you don't show up, everyone will know what a coward you are and it'll prove what they know about pathetic muggleborns to be true."

Flashing her that aggravating smirk, he walked over to the empty seat beside Theodore. Lizzie quietly pleaded with her not to consider the duel, pointing out the likelihood of him cheating and her lack of experience with spells. Before Care of Magical Creatures, she planned to lie that they told McGonagall about the duel, to discourage him. For all his bravado, he would not want to risk a detention and news of his bad behavior reaching his father.

Groans filled the room as Flitwick announced their first few lessons would be more about revision than learning a new spell. Though they had practiced the spells several times before the previous year, it would be a first for Rosalie and Flitwick insisted that to move onto advanced charms, they needed to master the basics. Freezing Charms was written on the blackboard, along with a diagram of the proper wand movement.

Flitwick conjured a cardboard box on each desk, containing floating silver discs that moved at varying speeds. Knowing Rosalie needed one-on-one practice, he had Lizzie pair up with Tracey and Millicent. She was anxious about casting any spell, not counting the leg locker curse this morning. For all she knew, Lizzie's wand did all the work and her own wand would reject her.

Her fears about embarrassing herself in front of her classmates, especially the snooty Slytherins, dwindled as she realized they were hardly experts themselves. Tracey and Lizzie hid behind their chairs as Millicent accidentally caused the disc to spin faster, nicking the wooden desk.

"Now that we've practiced the movement, let us give it a try," said Flitwick, tapping one of the discs. It floated above her, moving around in a circle. "Whenever you're ready and remember to keep a clear head."

She raised her wand, keeping her eyes on the disc. "Immobulus."

The disc froze by his ear. "Excellent, Miss Dursley, quite excellent." She blushed at his praise. "A natural talent, much like Miss Granger. I'm sure you'll do just as well in your sessions with Mister Cabot."

While he checked on the rest of the class, the Ravenclaws taking the lesson far more seriously, she kept practicing by herself. She thought back to all the times she had lived vicariously through Harry's stories and now she was the one doing actual magic. At the sound of the bell, Flitwick collected all of the discs in different parts of the classroom, urging those who struggled to practice it before their next lesson. Lizzie dragged Rosalie out of the room, complaining about her near-death experiences.

"I'm pretty sure it cut my neck. Stupid Davis…she knocked into me when I was trying to do the charm and I hit myself in the face. Blaise saw the whole thing. She did it on purpose," she said, dramatically. "Did you see how she was smiling at him at breakfast? If that snake thinks—can we help you?"

The Ravenclaw boys, startled by her vicious tone, almost knocked into each other. "We were just walking," said Anthony, with a shrug. "We're going in the same direction so I could carry your bag again, Rosie."

"You already did. You can't do it twice in a row," Terry muttered to the blonde.

Lizzie scoffed. "Don't you idiots have Charms? Go harass some other girl."

"Bye, Rosie," they chorused, before heading down another staircase.

"You didn't have to take it out on them. They're being nice," said Rosalie, waving back at Ginny.

"There's a fine line between nice and weird," Lizzie countered. "Pretty sure Corner was sniffing your hair."

Playfully pushing her shoulder, Rosalie followed her out of the castle and down to Hagrid's small wooden cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The Gryffindors were already there, surrounded by open wooden crates, their horrified faces suggesting that whatever was inside was not a pack of cuddly puppies. Hagrid, the only one excited about the creatures, waited for the Slytherins to arrive before introducing the class to the contents of the crate: blast-ended skrewts. Peeking inside, Rosalie understood their horror, the skrewts looking like deformed, slimy, shell-less lobsters with no visible heads. Every few seconds, sparks would fly out of their backsides, propelling them forward.

Draco rudely questioned the point of the strange creatures. Despite her disgust, she could not believe how he spoke that brazenly to a professor but then again, what did she expect from someone so arrogant? As they attempted to feed the skrewts, with lots of hesitation, ant eggs, frog livers, and grass snake, they learned that the sparks were capable of burning their skin and the males had stingers while the females had suckers on their bellies. Lizzie kept inching her hand back before it could reach one of the skrewts and Blaise eventually took the frog liver from her, tossing it into the crate.

Rosalie was not faring much better, trying not to gag from the stench of rotting fish. Harry helped her, before another Gryffindor boy, Irish by the sound of his accent, could offer, stopped from introducing himself. Feeling the tension, Rosalie assumed that he had a 'talk' with his friends and she was the main topic.

"Dudley, that diet's really working," she said, picking up a handful of ant eggs.

He pretended to laugh. "I saved you from one of his stupid lines. What's going on with you and Malfoy? I told you to stay away from him and then I hear that he wants to snap your neck like a twig."

"He can try." She squealed when a skrewt almost burned her thumb. "Please tell me he has animals that are less…creepy. Like bunnies?"

"Rosie, you don't have to fight my battles for me," he whispered. "I can handle Malfoy by myself but you're new to all this. The Slytherins aren't going to be nice to you, no matter what, because they only see that you're muggleborn and they don't play fair. I don't want to see you get hurt. Promise me you won't provoke him or anyone else."

Draco muttered mean comments, not bothering to lower his voice. Fed up with the insults, Hermione shot back that even an unappealing creature could contain incredible magical properties. At the end of the lesson, Rosalie gladly wiped the goop from her hands and walked back to the castle with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Passing by with chattering Pansy, Draco knocked into her shoulder.

"Oy, you best apologize, Malfoy," said Seamus, Rosalie having gotten his name, along with the other Gryffindors, from Hermione, glaring.

"Did I do that?" he asked, putting a hand over his heart. "I wasn't looking where I was going. Guess I'm a little too excited for dinner."

"Ignore him, Rosie," said Ron, scowling at Pansy's shrieky giggle. "Think his mum dropped him on his head as a baby and he lost half his brain."

Alec was waiting outside the Great Hall, resting on a lion statue. He did not acknowledge any of the girls who greeted him as they passed through the double doors but they were satisfied with a sliver of eye contact.

Harry tugged on the back of her robes. "Have you been to the library yet? We were going to head there, right, Hermione?"

A patch of ice formed around his ankle, sticking him to the floor. "Potter, you're making her late for her first tutoring session." Alec stepped away from the statue. "Don't worry. I'll make sure she has something to eat."

"Great. I'll come too," said Harry, struggling to free his leg.

"I thought you were going to the library. I don't want to ruin your plans." His nostrils flared at her throwing his blatant lie back at him. "I'll be back."

Alec brought her to an empty classroom in the dungeons. As she placed her bag at one of the desks, she thought she felt something brush against her hand but blamed it on the chilly air.

"Help."

"What?" she asked, turning towards Alec.

He was shutting the door. "I asked what you wanted to start with first. Flitwick was saying you're a natural at Charms…best in the class. Part of me feels like that's sad because they had months of practice with a freeze charm."

Feeling that chill again, she touched the back of her neck. "Doesn't matter. How long are we having these sessions? I should warn Harry ahead of time so he doesn't come up with another dumb excuse…or at least give him time to make believable ones."

"Once I'm confident that you have a proficient grasp of the material and your abilities are at least equal to your peers," he replied, conjuring a Charms textbook and trays of food.

"That was very professional," she said, sitting on top of the desk. "You sounded like a real professor."

Alec chuckled. "I'll try not to bore you but to be fair, McGonagall composed a curriculum for you and she'll skin me alive if I don't go over everything on it. We can make it fun. Name a food you don't like."

"Brussels sprouts." She scrunched her nose. "It's the one thing I let my brother take from my plate at dinner."

He walked towards her, still towering over her even with the added height of the desk. "Then if you get something wrong, you have to eat a brussels sprout. If you get it right, you'll get something you'll like."

"Cookie dough ice cream?" His arms rested on either side of her. "No, wait, lemon cakes."

Her heart raced, noticing his dark eyes linger on her lips. Their privacy was short-lived when the door opened and she was secretly thankful until she saw Vivienne and two other sixth year Slytherins, Priscilla and Camille.

"Alec, a little birdie told me you were down here," said Vivienne, cheerfully. She looked around the empty classroom. "I remember this place last year. We would…study in here a lot. I was hoping you could help me and the girls. With all that fun we had over the summer, my essay for Transfiguration completely slipped my mind and I need it done before next period or McGonagall will have my head."

"I'm a little busy, Vivienne," he said, stepping away from Rosalie.

"Yeah, with your unfortunate charity case." She lowered her lips into a pout. "I think it's admirable that you're helping a worthless cause but Professor Snape did say that if we had any issues with assignments, that you were the first person to go to, assistant professor. I'm sure you can handle more than one student. It wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

"Fine," he agreed, knowing this was a losing battle. "Let me get her set up and then I can help you."

Vivienne wasted no time in getting his attention, interrupting him in the middle of explaining a levitation charm. Unable to concentrate, he told Rosalie to read over the chapter and then practice on an owl feather. Rosalie found it difficult to get through a single paragraph with Vivienne and her minions openly flirting with him, focused more on complimenting his muscles than on their essays. Vivienne spent ten minutes alone recounting their summer in the south of France loudly enough that Rosalie could pretend she was there.

"Can you be serious?" he asked, looking irritated. "If not, I'm going back to helping—"

She gripped his arm. "Sweetie, don't be such a grump. I'll tell McGonagall that you were an amazing tutor to the mutt and we can finish what we started in Pucey's hot tub. We can go to our favorite spot."

"What a ditz," Rosalie heard.

A girl, the one from the train, was sitting to her left, her legs crossed over the desk. Instead of the heavy parka, she was dressed in a faded denim jacket, a long t-shirt that hung inches above her knee, with The Hobgoblins written in jagged golden letters, fishnet tights, and combat boots. Rosalie looked from her to the older students, expecting them to say something about the oddly dressed girl, but not one turned their heads.

"And I was the problem," the girl muttered. "Desperation, party of one. I don't see the appeal, do you? I know you can hear me, princess. I swear I don't bite…unless you like that."

Feeling the girl's hand on hers, Rosalie fell out of her chair, crashing into the stone floor. Random images flashed through her mind: a burned-down potions classroom, a remorseful Dumbledore and Snape, and a spherical glass orb that emitted a faint reddish glow. The images faded away, replaced by a concerned Alec who was clutching her side.

"Rose," he said, his voice sounding faint. "Hey, are you hurt?"

The girl had vanished from the desk. "Can't even handle a levitation charm?" taunted Vivienne, giggling with her friends. "Are you sure you're a witch?"

Fighting the pain in her shoulder, she picked up her bag and left the room, casting the charm on their chairs to lift them up to the ceiling. She walked out of the dungeons, panting heavily. Her eyes darted around her surroundings, hoping not to see the girl.

"Rose. Rose, stop." Alec blocked her path to the staircase. "You fell pretty hard. Let me make sure you're okay or at least let me take you to the hospital wing. I'm helping out in Snape's first year class so he won't mind if I'm late."

"I'm fine," she said, lowering her gaze to her shoes. "I'm going to ask Dumbledore if Hermione can tutor me instead. I'll actually learn something from her."

"Is this about—I didn't tell Vivienne to come down there," he insisted. "It doesn't take much to make her jealous and I'm sure she's the one who made you fall. Our history's…complicated."

"I don't care about your history." She moved past him, wanting to reach the Ancient Runes classroom before anyone else. "It's easier this way. I don't want to be in the middle of your drama. Don't touch me!"

His hand hovered an inch from her wrist, trembling. "Rose—"

"I have to get to class," she mumbled.

Hurrying up the steps, she found her way to the classroom, relieved that it was completely empty. If she was back at Smelting's, her walkman would be helping her combat her paranoia but at Hogwarts, magic interfered with electronic devices. She settled with writing a letter to Mina, despite the fact that she could not tell her about being a witch. Halfway through her venting, she crumpled up the piece of parchment and threw it in her bag. The red box was visible among her books. Tempted, she opened it, revealing a silver tennis bracelet.

"Hello." A girl with her dirty-blonde hair in low pigtails smiled at her. "We haven't met yet. I'm Hannah. Can I sit here?"

"Sure" she said, stuffing the box deeper into her bag. "I'm Rosalie."

Hannah pointed to the two girls at the desk behind them, introducing them as Susan and Megan. The girls talked, providing her with a good distraction, until an elderly woman in ruby red robes, her wand sticking out of her silvery bun, entered the room. Striding towards her desk, she greeted the four girls warmly. Rosalie anticipated the class size to be small, since it was not a required course, but it seemed unusual to only have four students. Her question was answered as Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy walked through the door.

"Mister Malfoy, you've decided to grace us with your presence," said Professor Babbling, facing the blackboard. "And only five minutes late this time. Is this my welcome back present? As I did during the first lesson last year, I'll remind you and your housemates that being tardy again will result in a week's detention."

"We were helping one of the first years find his class," explained Pansy, an obvious lie. "Surely you can't fault us for that."

"I look forward to your weekly good deeds, Miss Parkinson. Ah, ah, ah." She wagged her finger. "Since you're in such a giving mood, I've come up with an idea. We'll be putting aside house rivalries for today and I will assign your seats. Mister Malfoy, you can take Miss Abbott's seat."

"Professor, we're in the same house," he argued. "As optimistic as your idea is—she doesn't know anything. Wouldn't it make sense to have her work with you?"

"Shall we start the detentions early?" she asked, with a stern gaze. "I'm certain that you and Miss Dursley will work well together. Miss Parkinson, you'll be sitting with Miss Abbott, Miss Jones with Mister Goyle, and Miss Bones with Mister Crabbe. Chop, chop, let's get on with the lesson."

Once each disgruntled pair had settled into their seats, Babbling handed out copies of a wrinkled piece of parchment, a passage she discovered when exploring an ancient tomb in Norway. The first pair to correctly decipher the entire passage would receive a special prize. Her hopes for any unity were misplaced, with Draco refusing to even let Rosalie look at the parchment. He was growing increasingly frustrated, constantly changing what he wrote under each rune.

"Can I see it?" she asked, in an attempt to be civil, after he scratched out his writing for the fifth time. "I watched Hermione practice during the summer."

"Why would I want help from you, Dursley?" he whispered. "Unlike you, I deserve to be here."

"Here we go again," she said, sarcastically. "Well, unlike you, I want to learn. Why are you taking this class anyway?"

He tightened the grip on his quill. "Because any proper wizard should, according to my father. Translating runes can help with ancient spells…magic far beyond your comprehension."

"And is it proper for you to hog all the work?" she asked, making him roll his eyes. "Babbling sees you're being a terrible partner. Give it."

Rosalie snatched the parchment from him and glanced over the runes, none of it surprisingly looking like total gibberish. Maybe it was some out of body experience or she paid more attention to Hermione than she realized but she found herself translating the runes, having to cross out half of his writing and without using the runic dictionary.

"We have a winner!" exclaimed Babbling, over her shoulder. She picked up the parchment. "Good eye on seeing that it was not a protection charm but a curse. Those two are often mixed up. Excellent work, both of you, and for your prize, no homework."

For the next hour, Babbling wove an epic tale of her adventures in the tomb, rescuing her colleague from a medieval curse. As she listened in amazement, she noticed that Draco was staring at her.

"How did you know any of that?" he asked, sounding curious.

"Hermione's a good teacher," she replied, keeping her eyes on Babbling.

It was a half truth, enough to appease him. In all honesty, she could not explain how the answers came to her. She left the classroom with the Hufflepuff girls, each complaining about their poor partners.

"Malfoy's face was priceless," said Susan, grinning. "It's oddly satisfying when someone puts him in his place…and he thinks he's the next Cabot."

"He wishes, not like it's much to aspire to," said Megan, repulsed. "Doesn't he tutor you, Rosie? I heard Fiona saying he's your guide or something. Did he spend the entire time talking about his hair?"

Hearing his name Alec brought back memories of their ill-fated tutoring session. "It um didn't last very long. He was helping Vivienne, Priscilla, and Camille too."

The three girls shuddered. "The three harpies of Hogwarts? Of course they were together. I can't believe Dumbledore let him be an assistant. Penelope, Owen, and Jenna make sense but Alec's…well, he wasn't exactly known for having his nose in a book."

At the end of the line queuing into the Great Hall were Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the boys looking visibly annoyed. Jenna, a former Gryffindor and assistant professor, had been sitting in on their Divinations lesson and ordered them to attend her tutoring session after dinner, as punishment for goofing around during class.

Rosalie sided with an unsympathetic Hermione. "You brought it on yourselves. Why would you make that joke, Ron?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," he sputtered. "It slipped out. This is why Jenna always got along with Percy. She's got a stick up her—"

"Weasley! Hey Weasley!"

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing at the bottom of the staircase, looking unusually pleased. Brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet, he read from one of the articles and everyone turned to listen, ignoring Jacob's orders to continue into the Great Hall. The article was about Mr. Weasley, Draco making a pointed comment that the reporter could not get his name right, proving his unimportance to the Ministry, as he dodged Jacob's attempts to grab the newspaper.

Ron's ears were as red as his hair as Draco read aloud about Mr. Weasley's attempt to assist Moody with his exploding trash bins. The reporter made him sound foolish for involving the Ministry in the matter, having to modify the memories of some policemen after the false alarm. Rosalie, Harry, and Hermione held onto the back of Ron's robes, to prevent him from launching himself at the arrogant prat.

Jacob managed to grab the newspaper and threatened to bring him to Snape, which sounded like a hollow threat. Snape would never reprimand one of his precious Slytherins. Draco's insults went a step too far when he commented on Mrs. Weasley's figure, a picture of her and Mr. Weasley attached to the article.

"Take that back" snapped Rosalie, looking at him like a lowly worm. "Were you raised in a barn?"

Harry, barely containing his own rage, moved his free arm in front of her. "Get stuffed, Malfoy."

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Draco, treating Jacob like he was invisible. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky or is it just the picture?"

Ron struggled to fight their grip, Rosalie and Hermione having to use both hands. "You know your mother, Malfoy? That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose?" Harry retorted. "Has she always looked like that or was it just because you were with her?"

Jacob conjured an invisible shield to stop him from advancing towards Harry. "Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then." He nudged a shaking Ron towards the doors. "Rosie, you too. Let Jacob handle—"

Several people suddenly screamed and others had eyes as wide as saucers. A jet of bright white light grazed the side of Harry's face, followed by a loud bang that bounced off the walls.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" shouted a gruff voice.

Professor Moody, leaning against his walking stick, limped down the staircase. At first, she thought his wand was pointing at Jacob, who was mouthing wordlessly, but then she spotted the white ferret by his shoes, the exact place where a smirking Draco had been seconds ago. After checking on Harry, he limped towards the squeaking ferret, no one daring to move a muscle. Crabbe and Goyle themselves were frozen in disbelief.

"P—professor, you can't…" started Jacob.

The ferret streaked towards the dungeons but Moody was too quick, levitating it into the air and repeatedly bouncing it up and down. McGonagall, dropping the books in her arm, immediately put an end to the show by changing the ferret back into Draco, who laid in a heap on the floor, his sleek hair all over his face. Given a lecture from McGonagall about proper procedures, Moody seized Draco's arm and forced him down to the dungeons. The Great Hall was abuzz with only one topic: Moody's 'lesson'.

Rosalie listened to Pansy scheme to get Moody fired by writing to her father, a member of the school governors. Under the table, she was tapping her foot against the floor, telling herself to listen to Harry's advice.

"Never saw that coming," Lizzie told Blaise. "Moody might scare Snape into giving him a detention."  
"Doubtful," said Blaise, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. "At most, he'll take away a couple points. Draco's always going on about how his family has him over for dinner."

"Let's hope it shuts him up for a few days," she said, crossing her fingers. "We could all use the quiet, right, Ro—"

Rosalie stood up, without saying a word, and left the Great Hall. Against her conscience, she kept walking, seeing the quidditch pitch in the distance. There were shadowy figures standing on the wet grass and as she got closer, the Slytherin boys became visible. Adrian was dropping coins into a small wooden chest.

"No one wants to take odds on Dursley?" he inquired. "Smart move. I wouldn't either. Anyone want to bet on how much she'll cry? Reckon she'll do it before Draco takes out his wand."

"She's welcome to cry on my shoulder," said Graham, leading to loud groans. "You can't deny she's fit. A man has his needs and I can pretend she's not a mudblood for a few minutes."

"It's not worth it, mate…not even to get a rise out of Potter," replied Theodore. "There's the cute little ferret!"

Draco approached from the opposite direction and made a rude hand gesture. Hiding by a shed, Rosalie picked up a small jagged rock and eavesdropped on their conversation. As predicted, Snape was lenient on him once Moody left his office, taking five points from Slytherin.

"Wait until my father hears what that lunatic pulled," he growled. "Told you Dursley would be too scared. She's just like Potter, all talk. It's a shame though. I was looking forward to knocking her into the dirt."

"On the bright side, you saved Graham from getting some muggle disease," joked Lucian, a seventh year.

Their taunts ceased as she stepped onto the pitch. "Dursley!" yelled Adrian, clapping his hands. "You didn't chicken out. I was hoping for a show."

"Still time to quit," offered Draco. "No? What is it about you mudbloods? Granger doesn't know when to stop being an insufferable know it all and you're too stupid to know when you're already beat. You've got no chance, Dursley. Clearly, you need a proper lesson. Let's call it an introduction to how the world works for mudbloods."

She retrieved her wand from the waistband of her skirt. "The only thing getting introduced is your scrawny, pretentious ass to my foot, ferret!"

A chorus of 'Oohs' echoed around the pitch. "Loving that confidence," said Adrian, tucking the box under his arm. "Now, Dursley, I know you've never been in a duel, which makes this all the more fun but it's very simple. You'll each take five steps back and then on the count of three, you go at it. We don't need to explain any broken bones to Madam Pomfrey so let's just say the first one on the ground is the loser."

The boys stepped back themselves to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Facing each other, she and Draco raised their wands.

Adrian held up three fingers. "One…two…"

"Lo—"

Draco ducked his head, to avoid being hit in the face by a rock. Taking that small window of opportunity, she did what Ron had been dreaming about outside the Great Hall, using all of her strength to tackle him. The force of her hit caused him to stumble backwards, both of them falling to the ground. Years of being Dudley's unwilling wrestling partner at home had taught her a few moves. She pinned his arms above his head and as he started to fight back, she kneed him in the groin.

A muscular arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off of him before she could smash his face into the dirt. The boys that had been cheering them on, like a pack of wild monkeys, now lowered their heads. Draco was still on the ground, groaning in pain.

"A—Alec, we were just—we were having a laugh," said Cassius. "It wasn't an actual duel. They were messing around."

"You've got five seconds to get out of my face, the lot of you," he hissed. "One of you braindead gorillas can take the weepy weasel."

Goyle, moving faster than she had ever seen, helped Draco up from the ground. If Alec was not there, she was certain he would have attempted a second round, settling for a harsh glare.

"Put me down," she said, her feet still dangling in the air. "I'll tell McGonagall that you were telling me about the wand hidden in your pants and you wanted me to fish it out or you wouldn't let me leave."

He lowered her onto a bench in the first row of the stands. "Are you done?"

"You're a terrible tutor and your face is stupid," she replied, crossing her arms. "Now I'm done."

"You shouldn't have been out here in the first place. If those idiots decided to join in, they could've—" The muscle in his jaw twitched slightly. "This isn't the muggle world. If Malfoy got ahold of his wand, he could've seriously hurt you if he wanted. I'm sure his father's taught him things that you would never learn in a classroom but believe it or not, I was protecting both of you."

"Why are you defending that—"

Her voice was gone. "You'll get it back when I'm done. You're new to all this so when it comes to magic, I'm a little more knowledgeable. Do you remember our…talk on the stairs? When you told me not to touch you, I didn't but you made me do that. I think it was your legilimency. You got inside my head, deep enough to do what you said, and that's dangerous. It wasn't your fault but what if you did something worse to Malfoy?"

Instead of the common room, Alec brought her to his room, to give Draco time to cool down from the fight. She had not said a word, despite him reversing the silencing charm before they left the quidditch pitch. Hearing that she somehow controlled him terrified her. What worried her more was that he did not have a definite answer to how she managed it, never seeing a legilimens with that ability. He conjured her bag and left the room to grab food from the kitchens.

Deciding to do her homework, she absentmindedly reached into her bag, taking out the book from Flourish and Blotts. She recognized some of the symbols, having seen the same ones on Babbling's parchment. Retrieving her runic dictionary, she translated the runes on the cover to read Mystical Medieval Arts. On the inside cover, in the top-right corner, was a sketch of a phoenix, Property of C.C. scribbled underneath its tail. As she traced the wings of the phoenix with her finger, the once blank pages were filled with various runes but in the margins were actual words, some being notations about the passages and some resembling diary entries. At the top of the first page was a date: August 10th, 1984.

Father refused to let me go to his secret meeting again. He says it's all boring business, not the proper place for a young woman. He thinks I'm like the rest of these vapid socialites but I'm not fooled by his act. I know he's meeting with his friends, still smarting from the downfall of their precious leader. He thinks he can take his place and continue what he started but he would never say that out loud. All of those men are just cowards, pretending they were under imperius curses and confunded to do his bidding. They've given up on searching for him but not me. I'll find a way to bring him back so I can prove myself as worthy of being his greatest follower. I'm destined for more than being a housewife like my mother. My little sister might want those things, merlin knows she's already planned out the wedding, but I won't waste my life away. I can't wait to be back at Hogwarts, to the one person who actually sees my potential.

Hearing the door open, Rosalie shut the book and hid it in her bag. Alec returned with a small feast, placing the silver tray on the bed.

"You skipped dinner and you didn't have much of a lunch," he reasoned. "The house elves don't mind. They jump at the chance to serve us. How are you feeling? I know what I told you sounds scary but we'll figure this out."

"I'm sorry about what I did. I wouldn't—" He winced when she bumped into his forearm, reaching for a plate. "D—did I do it again?"

"No, no, it wasn't you." Lifting his sleeve, he showed her the deep black gash on his arm. "I've had this for years. It's a curse scar. I got on the wrong end of some dark magic when I was younger and it can't be healed so I'm stuck with it. Girls like a guy with an injury, right?"

"Someone did that to you?" she asked, surprised. "Why?"

He rolled down his sleeve. "Guess it was their idea of fun. Some people are really twisted. Malfoy could've given you something like this but I won't let that happen. If anyone tried, I'd chuck them off the top of the Astronomy Tower. I don't want to get sent to Azkaban for touching a hair on the ferret's head so stick to embarrassing him in class, not breaking his nose. I have a way to help with that."

Opening the top drawer of his dresser, he handed her a teal envelope. Her eyes widened when he explained that it was enchanted to deliver any letters inside directly to Mina's mailbox. If Mina used the same envelope, it would alert a nearby owl to collect it before the mailman, to deliver it to Hogwarts. Unable to convey her appreciation in words, she hugged him.

"You said it was hard being away from her," he said, his hand on the small of her back.

"It is but you didn't have to do this," she replied, her mind reeling with what to write to Mina first.

"It's a simple enough charm and it makes you happy. That's all that matters." The girl appeared by his dresser, pretending to gag. "Rose?"

His voice began to sound distant. Rosalie felt a sharp pain in her forehead and the last thing she remembered was slumping against his shoulder as everything turned dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Enchant

Rosalie woke up in the hospital wing with a splitting headache. It worsened when Madam Pomfrey shined a light in her eyes. Alec, who was sitting in a chair beside her bed, pretended to find her outside the Great Hall, believing her to be the target of an older student's prank. After she was forced to ingest a pepperup potion, he brought her back to the Slytherin common room, constantly asking if she felt lightheaded. He stayed by her side until she was in her room, because Draco was eyeing her from the couch but also to ensure she did not faint halfway up the staircase.

He acted as her personal bodyguard for the rest of the week, sitting at the Slytherin table during meals, under the pretense of tutoring sessions, and assisting in all of her classes. Despite his repeated denials, her theory was proven when a furious Jenna cornered him outside the greenhouses, complaining about the last minute changes to their schedules and McGonagall reprimanding her for being late to a lesson. His presence did work as a useful deterrent against Draco's possible retaliation, the blonde's anger growing when the older Slytherin boys did not share in his desire for vengeance.

Seeming to forget about her muggleborn ancestry, they somewhat warmed up to Rosalie, Graham coining the nickname 'Knockout'. At meals or in the common room, they would reenact their short fight, one throwing punches while another pretended to cry and whine about his hair. She secretly welcomed the change in attitude, not wanting to spend an entire school year hearing their insults. It only infuriated Draco more that she was making friends outside of Slytherin and excelling in her lessons.

Rosalie found herself adjusting to the extremely different lessons quicker than she expected, learning that each professor had specific teaching styles. While she could listen to Babbling talk about her adventures exploring tombs and pyramids for hours, it was a miracle she did not fall asleep during Binns's monotonous droning on about goblin rebellions. She would have enjoyed Potions, if Snape did not treat her like garbage. While he praised the other Slytherins for subpar work, he passed over her cauldron without a single comment, except to subtly accuse her of receiving help from Lizzie.

The one class she had her reservations about was Defense Against the Dark Arts, few students sharing her opinion. Transfiguring Draco and his overall reputation as an auror made everyone else, even the hard to impress Slytherins, excited to learn from him but she could not shake her uneasiness, that feeling amplified in their first lesson. Claiming that he had permission from Dumbledore to alter the typical curriculum, he taught them about the unforgivable curses, ones that were forbidden in the wizarding world. After reprimanding Pansy and Tracey for doing a Witch Weekly quiz, his magical eye able to see through solid objects, he demonstrated the curses on spiders.

Some of the Slytherins took a sick pleasure in watching him torture them. The image of a spider rolled onto its back, its legs curled inward, once he cast the killing curse, the very curse that Harry had survived as an infant, was still seared in her brain as they left the classroom. No one was put off by his careless use of such deadly curses, thinking it proved him as a capable professor in the subject. With all his talk of constant vigilance and being prepared for the dangers of the real world, she thought he had some screws loose, an opinion Alec agreed with but blamed on decades of fighting dark wizards.

When she was not in lessons or at meals, she spent most of her time with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, partially due to Harry rising to the occasion of being a replacement Dudley. Seeing boys flirt with her outside her home or on the rare opportunity that he was allowed to accompany her and her mother's trips to the market was much different from having to witness it on a daily basis, as boys offered to carry her books or complimented her when passing in the halls. He soon learned that a nasty glare was not enough to dissuade them but he remained determined to drive them away if they got too close.

"They shouldn't be treated like they're lesser just because they're a little different." Rosalie was standing outside the Great Hall, surrounded by a group of boys. "It's for a really good cause and it's super easy. All we need is two sickles. Do you want to help?"

"Sure," they chorused, each handing her silver coins.

"Rosie, do you want to—"

"She's busy," interrupted Harry, a bit viciously, taking her by the arm and forcing her through the doors.

Harry kept her glued to his side, sitting her down at the Gryffindor table. Ron glanced up from his half-written Transfiguration essay and upon seeing Harry's face, he stuffed buttered toast in his mouth.

"What are you doing?" asked Harry, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "Don't tell me they're giving you money in exchange for a date."

"How dare you? I am simply performing my SPEW duties," she said, feigning offense. At that moment, Hermione joined the table, her bag crammed with books and an orange badge pinned to her robes. "I got you ten new members. You're welcome."

Unable to dodge Harry's questioning, Hermione shyly admitted that she had given Rosalie an important position ("Head of Marketing," said Rosalie, scooping scrambled eggs onto her plate) in her crusade for house elf rights, named SPEW. Rosalie remembered when Hermione had brought up the project in the library while helping her with a Potions essay, dropping a stack of parchment thicker than her waist on the table. She was sympathetic to Hermione's compassion for the house elves though Lizzie called it a lost cause, considering the creatures had been serving wizards for centuries. A house elf was a symbol of status among pureblood households. Hermione wanted to use Rosalie's 'charm' to increase their membership and spread the campaign's important message.

"Bloody hell, that's brilliant," said Ron, amazed. "Come on, mate, you have to admit it's pretty good."

"Ignore that face, Hermione." Rosalie picked a piece of hay from Harry's sleeve. "He doesn't understand marketing strategy and he's upset that Sirius hasn't written him back. Probably because he knows he's a bad liar."

Days after her fight with Draco, Hedwig had finally returned with a letter from Sirius. In addition to telling him to visit Dumbledore if his scar hurt again, he planned to travel up to Hogwarts. The fear of Sirius getting caught by the Ministry drove Harry to lie that the pain was all in his imagination, giving him no reason to come out of hiding. Both Rosalie and Hermione reprimanded him for his lying but he refused to listen, putting Sirius's welfare above his own and insisting that his scar had not hurt since the summer.

"Well, we're off to work on our Triwizard plans," announced Fred, getting up from the table with George and Lee. "We'll see you little tykes later. Ready for our enchanting evening, Rosie?"

"Yeah, can't wait," she replied, putting a hand over Harry's mouth.

Once the three mischievous Gryffindors were out the doors, she lowered her hand. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all looking at her curiously, Ron automatically assuming that she was going on a date with Fred.

"It's not a date," she said, flicking Harry's forehead. "They're opening this new club in Hogsmeade. It's called Enchant and before you freak out, Dudley Jr., it's for teenagers too. Lizzie said there's a bunch of them all over the wizarding world. Alec and the other assistant professors are like chaperoning so we're allowed out past curfew. You guys should come too."

"Pass," said Harry. "You're daft if you think you're going. We're a little young for that, don't you think?"

"The age limit is fourteen, eeyore," she countered, earning a confused look from Ron. "I've been to ones like it back home. Besides, a couple hours of fun might do wonders for that stick up your ass."

"You're not going, Rosie. Say it back to me." She stood up at the sound of the bell. "Ro—I hope Moody makes you act like a dog and you're stuck that way!"

The night before, Harry told her how Moody cast the imperius curse on all of the fourth year Gryffindors, to give them firsthand experience with its effects. He had not done anything terrible, having Lavender imitate a squirrel and Ron hop around the room on one foot, but it still sounded dangerous. Harry showed some resistance to the curse and endured it over and over until he was fully able to fight it off, suffering a bruised leg from all the times he collided with a desk. If there was any time she wanted to see that ghostly girl, it was now, in the hopes it would cause her to faint before the lesson.

"Why is Harry making that face?" asked Lizzie, glancing back at the Gryffindor table. "Oh, you told him about Enchant, didn't you? Bad idea. He already has heart attacks when someone like Seamus carries your books. Seeing you dance with a guy might send him to St. Mungo's."

Draco purposely bumped into her on the staircase. "Who would be that desperate?"

"It's okay, Malfoy," said Rosalie, doing the same to him but barely moving him an inch. "You can admit you're jealous. I can't help it that I'm a twelve."

"What are you comparing yourself to, a troll?" Theodore, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggered at his taunt. "Maybe one that's had its face smashed in, sure."

"Spoken like a true two," she said, pouting. "I'd say you'd eventually grow into that face of yours but I don't like giving people false hope. Shouldn't you be scurrying a little faster or do your tiny ferret legs need more time to catch up with the rest of us?"

With a bitter scowl, driven by the laughter from those who overheard, he pushed past a pair of Hufflepuff boys. Rosalie's happiness turned to dread when she entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, all of the desks pushed to opposite sides of the room to leave a large space in the middle.

"No need for your books," announced Moody, standing by the blackboard. "We'll be taking a practical approach today. You're going to learn the power of the imperius curse by feeling it for yourselves."

As Daphne stepped back, fearfully, the door snapped shut. "You must be joking," spat Theodore. "It's illegal. If you try it, I'll tell my father—"

"Oh, I'd relish a chat with your father, Nott. We used to have plenty of them back in the day…before he put on his little act of being under one of these himself." Theodore bristled at what he implied but continued to stand next to Blaise. "One by one, you'll come to the center and we'll see just how resilient you lot are…who's first?"

Not even the boastful Draco, who loved to brag about his powerful family, was willing to volunteer, staying by the desks with the rest of the Slytherins. Moody shouted for Tracey and after the second time, she shuffled forward with a whimper. As Rosalie watched him cast the curse on student after student, all of them helpless, her uneasiness grew but not because of Moody. She wondered if it was how Alec felt when she accidentally controlled his hand.

"It'll wear off," Moody told Lizzie, as she stood next to Rosalie with her left arm wiggling uncontrollably.

"Oh, will it? Thanks." Hearing her sarcastic tone, she bit her lip. "I didn't mean it like that. Don't make me do it again. I'm fine with this."

"Malfoy, you next," he barked.

While most were instantly under the curse's effects, Draco seemed to fight it for awhile, his face contorted in intense concentration, before he began barking like a dog. Rosalie eyed the clock, hoping the lesson would end before it was her turn. Instead of hearing people's thoughts, preferring not to listen to Pansy coo over Draco sounding like a cute puppy, she would rather have the ability to time travel, if only to avoid these last five minutes.

"Dursley!"

Tearing her eyes away from the slowest clock in the world, she saw that Draco was back between Pansy and Theodore, the latter teasing him with mocking growls. Moody pointed a gnarled finger at the center of the room. She tentatively moved away from Lizzie, her hands bundled into her sleeves. Harry assured her that it was painless, a floating, almost relaxed sensation that made the person blissfully unaware of what they were doing but that did not quell her nerves. From the corner of her eye, she saw Draco whisper to Pansy, likely ready to taunt her over the embarrassing action she was about to perform in front of her classmates.

"Your cousin was a fighter. Took him a few tries but in the end, he managed to beat it," he said, raising his wand. "Let's see if you've got some fight in you, Dursley."

Rosalie heard him say the incantation but there was no blissful feeling, just a dull ache like a hammer tapping against her temple.

CRASH.

Moody was knocked back several feet, tumbling over his desk. All of the Slytherins stared at her like she suddenly sprouted wings. If he exploded his trash bins to scare off a potential intruder, what would he do to someone who unintentionally struck him, set them on fire? She contemplated running out of the room and hiding in the forest but her legs did not get the memo, keeping her rooted to the floor.

Her heart raced at his scratchy laughter. "That's what I like to see! The rest of you could learn from this little fighter!"

"It wasn't her, professor," Pansy said, dismissively. "Lizzie probably cast a spell under her robes."

"If you don't like being upstaged, Miss Parkinson, feel free to put in an effort." The door creaked open. "You're all dismissed. Dursley, you stay."

Rosalie silently pleaded with Lizzie to stay behind but she was obviously frightened of being alone with Moody. Aside from both of his eyes boring into her, she felt another pair of eyes on her but she was too anxious to move as much as an inch.

"P—professor, I didn't—" she started.

"First time here, Dursley?" She looked at him, confused. "At Hogwarts. Dumbledore told me about your history. Don't let those snakes get you down. They're envious of your natural gifts. I bet they wish they had half of your talent. I can see a bright future for you. He'll be pleased."

"Who?" Judging by his face, he had not said that last part out loud. "M—me? I'm not—I don't really think I know what I'm doing half the time."

"Don't be modest. You've got power, Dursley." He tapped the side of his nose. "Remember constant vigilance."

"Right," she said, slightly terrified. "I should um go. Lots of homework to do and breaks aren't that long."

The second she entered the common room, she searched for Lizzie. Rosalie could not find her among the Slytherins scattered around the room, seeing boys on the couches gathered around a radio. It was typical to find them like this on their breaks or after meals, listening to quidditch match commentaries. Reaching the first step leading to the dormitories, she was stopped by Draco extending his arm across the archway.

"I don't have time for this," she sighed. "I'm looking for Lizzie."

He kept his arm firmly in place. "She ran off after Pucey got a little too handsy by the dungeons entrance. Think I heard her say she's going to the owlery to write to her father so she'll be venting for awhile. How did you do it, Dursley?"

"Do what?" she asked, acting clueless.

"Don't play dumb," he hissed. "How did you resist the curse that easily? Of course Saint Potter was able to do it but you heard Moody. He didn't get it on the first try so enlighten me on how some muggleborn who has never been around magic is able to fight off an unforgivable curse."

"Draco, the match is starting!" said Theodore, fiddling with the dials.

Lowering her head, she slipped under his arm and headed up to the girls' dormitories. It looked like a miniature tornado had torn through the fourth year bedroom, specifically her bed. Her sheet was laying in a bundled mess on the floor, along with one of her pillows and half of the belongings from her nightstand. Thinking it was Pansy working on her precious imaginary boyfriend's behalf, she fixed up her bed, making sure that nothing was broken, and discovered the red Ancient Runes book hidden beneath the blanket. Rosalie had taken to reading the book in her spare time, typically when the other Slytherin girls were fast asleep.

When she was not translating the odd runes, many not even in her runic dictionary which meant checking out other books from the library to assist her, she was reading the notes scribbled by C.C., feeling a strange connection. Whoever the girl was, she was likely pureblood, with her mentions of a house elf messing up her laundry and visits to the Ministry with her father.

Lying on her freshly made bed, Rosalie rested the book on her lap, looking at the date written in the corner. There was something different about the ink, silver and shiny. The eye of the phoenix drawing widened and a force tugged at her chest, tilting her forward. Her feet hit the floor and for a second, she thought she had lost track of time while reading but then realized that she was not in her bedroom. It looked eerily similar, aside from minor changes.

Instead of the ornate golden mirror that hung beside Pansy's bed, commenting favorably on her appearance, or the moving posters of a handsome singer that Daphne had torn from a copy of Witch Weekly, the room was mostly bare except for one side of the room that had posters of The Hobgoblins performing on a stage, with runic symbols etched in between and extending to the ceiling. A girl was standing on top of a bed, moving her wand in circles to create more runes. Her uniform appeared to be altered, her green and silver tie turned into a belt and her dress shoes replaced with combat boots. At the knock on the door, she flicked her wand and the runes vanished, leaving the posters.

As the girl hopped off her bed, Rosalie recognized her as the ghost. "You? What's going on? Hey, answer me!"

Seemingly unable to hear her, the girl tied her golden blonde hair into a high ponytail and loosened the top button of her blouse before opening the door. A younger Snape, presumably in his early twenties, was standing outside the room. Dressed in his usual black, he looked mostly the same, his hair a few inches shorter and not as oily.

"Sev, you know the rules. No boys allowed up here," she said, clutching her chest. "What if someone were to see?"

"You know that it is Professor Snape when we are at school, Celeste," he reminded her, shutting the door behind him. "Why am I not surprised that you're up here alone while your peers are enjoying the nice weather? Surely you want to be out in the sun with your friends."

She scoffed under her breath. "Friends is a loose term. We all pretend to like each other for our families…and we don't exactly share the same interests. Are you only here to rub in my isolated existence? That's beneath you and here I was, willing to let you borrow the advanced copy of Arsenius Jigger's new book. My father sent it to me as a peace offering."

Celeste walked back towards her bed. Snape silently watched her as she flipped her bag upside down, picking up a small black book. Rosalie noticed the red book at the bottom of the pile.

"I look forward to reading it. Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you but I wanted to speak with you first," he said, gravely. "It's about—"

"That stupid rumor Nicolette's been spreading?" Celeste sat on her bed, crossing her legs. "Sev, you're not actually scared that he believes it, are you? You're too moral to snog a student. You'd at least have the decency to wait until graduation to lessen the scandal."

He was taken aback by the supposed rumor. For a brief moment, Rosalie saw the shadow of a smirk on the blonde's lips, quickly shifting into a face of concern.

"I haven't heard such a—" Flustered, he shook his head. "This is about Ivana Rosier. You're aware that she is still missing? Her parents rightfully want answers. A first year does not simply disappear and someone has come forward, claiming they saw you with her that night. This is no way an accusation, Celeste…"

"Sure sounds like one and here I thought we were friends!" She fiddled with the silver chain of her necklace, the ruby pendant shining in the light. "I didn't mean to snap like that. I'm worried about Ivana too. The truth is that I was with her for awhile. I found her hiding in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, crying her eyes out, and I tried to comfort her. She said it was about a boy…a Ravenclaw, I think. He lost his mother in the war and since he can't get to her uncle in Azkaban, he decided to take out his anger on an eleven year old girl. I wish I could be more help but I'll tell Dumbledore everything I know."

"That's not necessary. The Dark Lord may be gone but we're all still healing from the chaos he left in his wake," he replied, absentmindedly touching his wrist. "I know you've been through that as well. More than likely, this supposed source is someone who wants to see your family suffer. It wouldn't be the first time you've been falsely accused of such things."

"With great brilliance comes jealous twits who want to knock you down, right?" she joked. "Though if you ask my mother, I'm destined to be the family disappointment. Something else we have in common."

He surveyed her with uncharacteristic sympathy. "You are not a disappointment, in any regard. I was once where you are, feeling misplaced and misunderstood. Even in my first year, I thought I was wasting my talents but finding our path takes time. If you ever need to talk, my office is always open."

Rosalie fell back on her bed, still holding onto the book. Panting heavily, she saw an upside down version of Celeste on the window ledge, her finger tracing the swimming pattern of a bright yellow fish, and sat upright, reaching for her wand. Celeste turned her face away from the window.

"Learned that trick from one of the greats," she said, nodding towards the book. "Sometimes, I liked going back to certain memories. They eventually found her, after accusing me another five times. No one wanted to believe that it was innocent Randall Turpin, the model student. Even with all the evidence, they wanted to pin it on the loner Slytherin whose father was accused of being a death eater. It didn't stop them from blaming me for other incidents."

"How—why—why can't anyone else see you?" asked Rosalie, the first question to pop into her head. "A—aren't you a ghost?"

"I'm not dead. I've been trapped for…" Her eyes fell on Lizzie's calendar. "Ten years. Wow, longer than I thought."

Rosalie had surely heard her wrong. "All that time? What do you mean by trapped? You mean you're in the castle? D—do you know how you got stuck?"

"Oh it wasn't an accident, princess," she said, shaking her head. "Like I said, I was always being blamed for things and then I was betrayed by someone I trusted. They sent me away as a twisted joke. You're the first person I've been able to interact with since then. Must be your legilimency…it's pretty strong. You can help me get out."

"But I don't even know where you are," replied Rosalie, getting off her bed. "I can tell Dumbledore and—"

"You think he'll believe you about a ghost he can't see?" argued Celeste, sounding vexed. "You're a sweet girl. That's why everyone was so shocked when you got put in Slytherin, isn't it? You want to help me. If we work together, we can free me and I can be reunited with my family. It's all I want. I don't know where I am but I can tell you where to start. We don't have much time, Rosie."

Her face began to flicker, her voice cutting out like a garbled radio. Rosalie was distracted by Lizzie shouting outside the door, the tall girl slamming the door in a fit of anger. Celeste was no longer by the window.

"Ugh, I wish I could hex Pucey until he was a pile of sludge," she huffed, tossing her bag onto her bed. "I could literally draw a picture of him being eaten by a dragon and thrown into a fire and he'd call it playing hard to get. If he tries anything at Enchant, I'll snap. Sorry for the rambling. What did Moody say to you? Did you get detention?"

"No. He wasn't mad," said Rosalie, hiding the red book inside her pillow. "I think he was impressed. Malfoy was trying to ask me how I did it but honestly, I have no idea."

Lizzie opened her Charms textbook. "I know. He accused me of casting a spell like Pansy did in the classroom. He can't handle it when someone shows him up."

The rest of the day, Rosalie searched for any sign of the mysterious Celeste. She thought of telling Dumbledore or another professor but Celeste had made a fair point. If she truly had been gone for ten years, wouldn't they find it strange that Rosalie knew her name and claimed that she was trapped within the castle? If she was on better terms with Snape, she would have spoken to him, the two appearing to be friendly in her memory.

At dinner, she learned that it was better not to mention her name. Alec sat with her at the Slytherin table to go over the third year Transfiguration curriculum, fighting off advances from a persistent Vivienne. Pretending that Celeste's name was written inside the borrowed book led to Vivienne storming out of the Great Hall and an awkward silence amongst the entire table.

Graham explained that Celeste was Vivienne's older sister, who had died in a potions explosion in her sixth year, and saying her name was taboo around the family. Her parents wanted to sack Dumbledore for negligence but after an investigation, it was found that Celeste and the group of students with her had simply mishandled the ingredients for their own experiments, leading to disastrous consequences. Was Celeste unaware of the accident and unbeknownst to her, an actual ghost?

"Get up," she whined, tugging Harry's arm.

Rosalie was in the Gryffindor common room, attempting to convince him, Ron, and Hermione to join her in Hogsmeade. Harry pretended to be knee deep in homework but truthfully, he was waiting for a letter from Sirius. He glued himself to the couch, refusing to even consider the idea of a fun night outside the castle.

She pulled on his sleeve. "You could never go to parties with me back home. This is our chance. Either you come with me or I will pay a visit to the Ravenclaw common room and wait for a certain someone to come out and hand them a letter that is supposedly from you. She'll think you're a creepy stalker who collects her hair when she's sleeping."

"Wh—fine. We'll go for a bit, if it'll get you off my back," he conceded. "Let's go, you loony."

"Don't you want to change?" He crossed his arms. "No fashion sense at all. How are we related?"

"I wonder that every day," he replied, sarcastically. "Stop bouncing. There is no 'Party Harry'. I'm the same, no matter what."

"We'll see," she said, in a singsong voice. "Don't tell me you don't want to see something embarrassing happen to Malfoy when he's had too many butterbeers."

"Here's hoping," said Ron, smiling.

"Children, both of you," mumbled Hermione.

Once they were past the gate, Rosalie slipped out of her 'safe' clothes, an outfit she chose in case she bumped into McGonagall before leaving the castle. She employed the same tactic back home, wearing a more conservative outfit around her parents and then changing at the party. Harry's eyes popped out of his skull at her choice of a long-sleeve dark blue crop top, a black leather skirt that zipped in the front, and matching black heels.

"What?" she asked, checking her makeup in her compact mirror. "Don't be such a prude. You're just used to Mrs. Figg's old lady clothes."

He looked over at Ron, as if daring him to make a comment, but his best friend was staring down at his dirt-stained sneakers. "Well, I liked your other outfit better. It made your eyes pop."

She closed the mirror. "Aw, nice try, but we both know blue is my color. Everyone's probably already inside. Stop stalling."

Enchant stood out amongst the shops that lined the streets, with its bright flashing lights and loud music. Rosalie's excitement faltered when she spotted a group of Hogwarts students further down the path, arguing with each other. From what she could gather, the other houses were disparaging the Slytherins, who were arguing their own innocence. Alec was keeping Fred and Adrian from their fight turning physical.

"Rosie, finally," said Lizzie, relieved. "That git had to ruin our night."

"What happened?" asked Hermione, concerned.

"The owner's son is here. He's the absolute worst." Rosalie remembered Lizzie mentioning animosity between the Slytherin families and the owner's children. "I swear he can hold a grudge for an eternity. We were about to get in and then he said all Hogwarts students are banned."

"Because of you," said Ernie, cutting into the conversation.

"Who asked you, Macmillan?" spat Draco.

"Well, it is your fault, Malfoy. Why don't you man up and apologize?" he suggested. "You're spoiling the night for the rest of us."

As the arguing continued, Harry getting dragged in when Draco snidely told him to use his fame to get them into the nightclub, Rosalie scanned the long line leading to the entrance. At the very front was a burly bouncer, who looked about as chipper as Snape, and an older boy who was shaking hands with some of the men.

"Shut up." A stunned Rosalie wandered away from the group, George now hinting at bribery. "Dante?"

Wiping away the dark red lipstick left behind by a flirtatious girl, he grinned and lifted her up in a one-armed hug. "Hey, secret witch. I heard you were coming to Hogwarts. I would've sent you a personal invite but I thought you might be sick of seeing Ruby."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, changing the subject. "You're a long way from home."

"My father had a last minute meeting and he wanted someone in the family to make sure opening night runs smoothly." He casually waved his hand at the door. "A night of partying away from Ilvermorny and my uptight headmaster? How could I say no? Bryce is coming too but as always, he's running late. I swear he'd be on time for once if I put the time on his hair care potions."

Rosalie giggled at his joke. Placing his hand on her lower back, he was about to bring her inside when someone screeched her name. The Hogwarts students had abandoned their fighting, no longer itching to tear out throats and transfigure someone into a slug. She waited for Harry to blow up at her being within arm's length of a boy, especially a stranger, but he was not the only one curious about her and Dante.

"Heh, what's…it's like you know each other," said Lizzie, her voice slightly high-pitched. It was the tone she used around Adrian, when containing her rage over his lewd comments. "That's random. So uh what's going on?"

"We met two summers ago. I was at this pageant event in London and his dad was there on business. His little sister Sienna saw me singing. She's the cutest little nugget," explained Rosalie, none of them sharing her enthusiasm. "And then I met him and his other sister Emilia. They're the only other wizards I knew besides Harry before I found out I was a witch. Crazy, right?"

Fred nodded. "Small world. I bet you two want to catch up but sadly, we need to get back to the castle. McGonagall was very clear that we need to stick together and if we're not allowed in, then Rosie can't go in alone. She's adamant about the buddy system. Rules can be such a bummer."

"Let them in for tonight, Griff," Dante told the bouncer. "But any sign of trouble and you're welcome to throw them out."

"Wow, so generous, Salvatore," said Lizzie, grabbing ahold of Rosalie. "Who knew you were capable of not being a complete troll? You can walk away now."

"I'll see you inside, Rosie," he said, unfazed by her attitude.

Most of the Hogwarts students eagerly followed him through the doors. Harry was swept up in the crowd, his calls for Rosalie interrupted by Fred and George each taking him by an arm and pulling him inside Enchant. Removing Lizzie's hand from her wrist, Rosalie turned towards her.

"You didn't have to talk like that to him," she admonished, disliking the friction between her friends. "Dante's—"

"Don't finish that sentence." Lizzie pointed at the door. "The Salvatores are as fake as Moody's freaky eye and that's a proven fact. He's a soulless git, Rosie. When I was seven, they were at my birthday party and he hexed me to make my skin turn blue. I was in St. Mungo's for days, looking like a blueberry, and that was him being tame. Emilia's no better. She's such an ice queen."

Her eyes widened at the cruel nickname. "Are you the ones who ruined his anniversary surprise by turning their living room into an ice rink? He was planning it for Bryce for months. I don't feel like hanging out with you tonight. You're welcome for getting you in."

"Lizzie, don't."

Alec held onto the back of her blouse, stopping her from chasing after Dursley. The night had taken an unexpected turn, with her knowing the Salvatores and then getting into a small argument with Lizzie. Draco was certain that Dante painted his family as the victims in their rivalry, downplaying his own transgressions against some of the Slytherins, and when telling Dursley about their prank, he failed to mention that it was in retaliation to one perpetrated by him and Emilia at last year's Christmas party thrown by the Cabots.

"You barging in there and insulting him won't smooth things over," said Alec, being a voice of reason. "Play nice."

"Why do you care?" asked Vivienne, re-curling the ends of her hair by twirling her wand. "You should be happy you're free of that mutt."

"No one asked you!" snapped Lizzie. "Let's go. He's probably getting her drunk and telling her more lies…like that we tried to drown his house elf. Don't touch me."

Shrugging off Adrian's arm before it was fully around her shoulders, she walked into the nightclub. Alec pushed his chest before joining her, a desperate Vivienne at his heels. The building was packed from wall to wall, music blaring in Draco's ears and colorful lights making it difficult to see much ahead of him.

Waitresses in revealing black dresses passed by, carrying trays of snacks and liquor bottles. A girl in her mid twenties glared at Graham when he attempted to take a bottle of firewhiskey. At the front of their group, Vivienne was in one of her moods, whining about wanting to dance with Alec instead of 'babysitting brats'. He argued that the only reason Dumbledore allowed them to visit Enchant was because he promised to keep an eye on the students. Many of the Slytherins, including Draco, had noticed a change in his behavior. In the past, he would entertain Vivienne's advances, eventually leading to them sneaking away to one of their rooms or a secluded spot in the castle. These days, he seemed more intent on doing his job than spending alone time with her or any other girl.

Lizzie was standing by the bar, baring her teeth like a rabid dog. "What are you doing?" asked Daphne.

"Trying to make a 'Let's be civil tonight' face," she replied, her eye twitching in anger. "Is it not going well?"

"You look like you belong in St. Mungo's," Draco stifled a laugh at Theodore's brutal honesty. "If this is so hard for you, then leave her alone."

"Agreed," said Vivienne, looking pointedly at Alec. "Dante will be too busy kissing up to some businessman for his father and she'll go find Potter. It's not like—"

"Petals!" he heard.

A seventeen year old boy with well-coiffed sandy brown hair moved through the crowd, fighting off the adoring girls begging for his attention and clutching his leather jacket. He walked towards a dark red couch where Dursley and Dante sat and planted a kiss on him, to the delight of the girls, before lifting Dursley into the air. Draco did his best not to stare when he spun her around, the action hiking up her short skirt. If their night was not already ruined by Dante's presence, it was now severely dampened by Bryce Barnes, his boyfriend and the personification of chaos. He had achieved fame outside of his family, performing all over the world and gracing the covers of several magazines.

"Great, it's Barnes," said Graham, disgusted. "Remind me why we wanted to come."

"Don't start anything," threatened Vivienne. "He's not worth it. We're here to have fun, not—Alec!"

Bryce kept Dursley on his lap, his hand resting on the sliver of skin between her top and skirt. The way they were talking, they knew each other well, which Draco thought was odd. Why would three high status purebloods be friends with a muggleborn?

"Uh oh, the mini professor's here." Dante looked over at Lizzie, who was still twitchy. "Did you get hit with a hex?"

"We're here to…bury the hatchet," she said, looking physically ill. "For whatever reason, Rosie—well, we're both friends so we can put our differences aside, I think. We all want to have a good time."

"Hear, hear," cheered Bryce. "Doubt this'll last long but let's celebrate anyway."

Snapping his fingers, he called over a waitress to bring over bottles of firewhiskey and butterbeer. As he poured firewhiskey into two shot glasses, one slid away from Dursley and over to Alec, who loudly acknowledged her age. The glass moved back across the table but to Draco's surprise, it was not Bryce's doing but Dursley's.

"Last I checked, you weren't my father," she said, picking up the glass.

"You're underage. You can't—"

He was cut off by Dursley downing the shot. "Relax, Cabot," said Dante, taking another bottle of firewhiskey. "We'll stop them if needed. You never say anything when your underlings are sneaking it at our family parties. Since when are you such a buzzkill?"

A tense silence hung in the air, similar to the one at dinner when Dursley mentioned Celeste. Dante's blasé attitude did little to ease the staring contest between her and Alec, despite his valid point.

"The ic—your sister isn't around?" asked Adrian, in an attempt to break the tension. "I've never known her to turn down a night out."

Draco was secretly relieved by his younger sister's absence. Emilia's frigid behavior did not endear her to most people, Vivienne gifting her the nickname of ice queen at the age of ten. Though their parents were close friends, he dreaded any time spent with the Salvatores, Emilia making a hobby out of insulting him. He had been spared of her disparaging remarks when visiting their home a week before returning to school, her parents unsure of the cause of her warmer disposition. According to Dante, her father had set her up on a date with the son of the French Minister, as part of his business prospects.

"Ten galleons says she doesn't make it past the hors d'oeuvres. Em would've ditched him by now if she knew who was here," teased Bryce, poking Dursley's side. "Ruby's getting tired from making all those trips to Hogwarts."

"Her new owl," explained Dante. "If she keeps making it wear that stupid red ribbon, it might choke on a pellet to end it all."

Draco thought of the owl that had visited Dursley multiple times in the past month. "Red ribbon? Rosie, you said that owl belonged to the Weasleys," said a puzzled Lizzie. "Why is Emilia sending you stuff?"

Dursley shifted in her seat, peering into her empty glass. "They look really similar. She knew I was nervous about Hogwarts so I guess she thought it would make me feel better. We got kinda close over the summer."

"Really close," mumbled an amused Bryce.

"My uh brother liked her and the end of our trip, we were fighting pretty much every day," she said, avoiding eye contact. "We can get petty. Like he took the last chocolate covered strawberry at dinner and then I'd cut holes in his shirts. It escalated pretty far so I took something he really wanted, which was her. Right when he was about to make his move, I introduced her to…cake."

They all looked at her strangely. "Pretty sure she's had cake before," remarked Adrian.

"It was a different kind of cake," she replied, subtly knocking her knee against Bryce's. "Not everyone likes…cake or if they do, they don't tell everyone. Turns out she never had it before and she liked it a lot. She wanted more but we were leaving so that's probably why—I'm really hungry. Is anyone else hungry? I'm going to get a snack."

Leaving the couch in a state of confusion from her rambling, she headed over to the bar. Lizzie had an internal struggle over joining her, choosing to remain between Alec and Blaise.

"Well, this feels familiar. Sitting with people who can't stand each other…" said Bryce, pouring himself another shot. "Something wrong with the whiskey, Cabot? I think this is the first time you haven't downed an entire bottle by yourself."

Vivienne squeezed his arm in silent warning. "You know what I think, Barnes? I think you should keep your hands off anyone who isn't your boyfriend. You're being a little too friendly."

Dante snorted into his glass. "I know you go through girls like a carousel but the last thing on his mind is snogging Rosie." He rolled his eyes at Bryce pretending to consider the idea. "Maybe not the last but believe it or not, you can just be friends with a pretty girl. Be a little less transparent. It's amazing they haven't sacked you yet. I don't care if they do so by all means, keep it up. You could share a cell with your mother."

Alec stood up with such force that he nearly knocked the couch over and lifted Dante off his feet with one hand. As Lizzie begged him to calm down ("Don't do something you'll regret. He said that to get a rise out of you"), Bryce immediately jumped to his feet, pointing his wand at Alec's chest. Amid the cheers of encouragement from the older Slytherin boys, who were always up for a good fight, Draco waited for one of the bouncers to separate them and throw Alec out the door. His murderous intent to pop off Dante's head was thwarted by a tiny pink umbrella striking his temple.

Dursley hurried over to the suspenseful scene with Emilia, who would have hexed Alec herself if not for the petite brunette holding her back. Both girls looked slightly disheveled and out of breath.

"Your skirt's backwards," Graham told Dursley.

"You're backwards," she replied, sounding defensive. "Shut up. Alec, put him down."

"Stay out of it," he growled, his eyes on a struggling Dante.

"Put him down!" she shouted.

In an instant, he loosened his grip, letting Dante fall back on the leather couch. For a moment, Draco thought there was a glassy sheen to Alec's eyes. Prevented from retaliating by a surprisingly passive Dante, an angered Bryce healed the reddish bruising on his throat. Emilia was about to step in until Dursley lightly pushed her back, speaking in inaudible whispers. The next minute, Alec stormed out of the nightclub, dragging an indignant Dursley with him. Lizzie chased after them, telling curious bystanders to mind their own business.

"Don't follow him when he's like that," said Priscilla, keeping Vivienne from leaving the couch. "Let him walk it off, Viv. He'll come back."

Emilia sat beside her brother. "Good point. We all know about his short temper. Guess Fudge gave the school enough money to turn a blind eye to it."

"Don't remember asking for your input, you frigid hag," Vivienne shot back, glaring. "Your brother deserved what he got. You can't help being foul gits, can you? Come on, if I wanted to sit with the trash, I would've stayed outside."

Finding somewhere else to sit improved their night immensely though they continued to keep an eye out for Alec and Lizzie. Adrian brushed off Vivienne's fears, believing that they had returned to Hogwarts to stop Alec from tearing Dante limb from limb. As Draco walked towards the bar for another round of butterbeers, jumping at the chance to avoid Pansy's attempts to dance, he felt the floor shake violently beneath him and caught a mug of butterbeer before it fell from the table. Everyone was oblivious, either too inebriated or distracted by the music.

Draco stepped outside to see what caused such a fuss and discovered Dursley, Alec, and Lizzie near the Herbology shop, both Cabots looking concerned. Dursley had her arms wrapped around herself. Stepping towards her, Alec offered to take her to the hospital wing but before he could reach her, all three simultaneously collapsed to the ground.

Draco's first thought should have been to alert an adult inside or to at least tell his friends but instead, he was on his knees beside Dursley. Unlike Alec and Lizzie, who were unconscious, her eyes remained open, reminding him of the petrified victims in second year. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

"Dursley?" He checked her wrist for a pulse, which was faint. "Can you hear me? R—Dursley. Come on, wake up."

Wrenched back, Dante took his place. Emilia and Bryce were with him, her navy blue nails wound tightly around Draco's collar. Snarling like a tiger, a familiar expression, she accused him of hexing Dursley.

"I didn't do anything," he said, ripping her hand away with a tap of his wand.

"We know you didn't," said Dante, in a rare instance of siding with him. "We'll take it from here, Malfoy. Get back inside."

"I don't take orders from you, Salvatore," snapped Draco. "I'm not letting you pin the blame on me. It wouldn't be the first time. I'm not an idiot."

"Debatable but we weren't giving you a choice." Bryce cracked his knuckles. "Don't make me say it again. Your idol and his little sister will be just fine. Let the experts handle this."

Knowing better than to pick a fight with him, Draco started to head back to Enchant then hid in the alley next to the Herbology shop. Emilia and Bryce had joined Dante on the ground, her fingers intertwined with Dursley's.

"Dante, you don't know if this'll work. We need to tell—" started Bryce.

"No," he interjected, conjuring a glass orb under his sleeve. "I'm not risking her going back there. That's exactly what she would want, Bry. It worked last time."

"We should've talked to her about Ilvermorny before he gave her that stupid letter," argued Emilia. "Dad could've pulled a few strings. Her pulse is getting weaker. Do it now."

Dante laid the orb on her chest. It emitted a faint reddish glow, the same happening all over her body. The orb filled with a swirling cloud of black smoke and as it began to vibrate, he picked it up with his sleeves covering his hands. While Emilia rested her wand tip on Dursley's forehead, he tucked the glowing orb inside his coat.

"Don't!"

Rosalie sat up straight, almost hitting her head against Emilia's. She, Dante, and Bryce surrounded her, all on their knees and behind them, she saw an unconscious Alec and Lizzie. Dante explained that Alec's magic had overpowered him, due to his anger, knocking them out in the midst of their argument. Rosalie remembered fighting with him over her friendship with the Salvatores and Bryce, refusing his help when she felt a pain in her temple, then Lizzie arriving but the rest was a blur.

"It's not uncommon," said Emilia, as Bryce revived both of them with a spell. "When our emotions are heightened, our magic can take over. They'll wake up in a couple minutes. Do you remember anything else?"

An image of Celeste on the bench outside Honeyduke's, a sweet shop, flashed in her mind. "No, I—" Dante seemed to sense her hesitation. "I saw a girl. She was sitting right there when I was yelling at Alec and then…I can't remember more than that but I've seen her before. You'll think I'm crazy. She's—she said she's trapped in the castle. She keeps asking for my help."

"Probably a ghost who likes to mess with people," suggested Bryce. "You should see the ones around Ilvermorny."

Before she could tell them more about Celeste, Lizzie turned on her side and Alec sat up, clutching his chest. "Ro—" Emilia pulled Rosalie against her. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't hurt her again, Cabot," she spat. "You really need a potion to control that temper. You're lucky you didn't cut her up."

Alec scoffed. "You're full of—" Looking at Rosalie, his expression of disbelief fell into a frown. "Rose, if I—you know I wouldn't—"

"Save it. I don't need another tantrum from you so I won't kick you and your friends out but I think it's best if Rosalie stays with us the rest of the night," said Dante, his hand on her shoulder as Alec and Lizzie dizzily got to their feet. "We'll get her back to the castle."

"I'll meet you guys inside," whispered Rosalie. She squeezed a skeptical Emilia's hand. "It'll be okay."

Throwing a contemptuous look at Alec, she followed Dante and Bryce back to Enchant. Rosalie kept her distance, still uncertain of what happened minutes before and feeling an itching sensation in her chest.

"Rosie, you don't actually believe what she said, do you?" asked Lizzie. "How would they know what happened? It could've been one of them trying to play a bad prank. That icy brat loves to—"

"Stop calling her that," chided Rosalie. "She can be a little intense but she's really sweet. I don't want you guys to keep fighting. If something happens with her, I don't want you to hate each other. You're both my friends."

Lizzie looked confused. "With her? What does that mean?"

"When I was talking about getting back at my brother, I didn't actually—I was the cake," she replied, feeling uneasy with their blatant stares. "I um kissed her because I knew my brother would be pissed that I beat him to it. I mean, technically it's a win-win because it shut him up and well, she's not exactly hideous."

"I didn't know you liked…cake," said Lizzie, delicately. "Not that I have a problem—either of us have a problem with that."

"Not just cake. I mean, I like popsicles too," said Rosalie, struggling with a proper analogy. "I don't exactly broadcast it to the world though. I kind of thought it was obvious at the World Cup when the veela were around but I didn't want to say anything."

Days after their eventful night at Enchant, a sign was posted at the bottom of the grand staircase, announcing that the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving the night before Halloween, the Triwizard tournament once again dominating most conversations. All four houses were abuzz with who would be the best representative for Hogwarts, each assuming it would be one of their own chosen by the impartial judge. Cassius, who had turned seventeen at the beginning of the October, was the top choice in Slytherin and Rosalie heard rumors about Cedric considering to put in his name. Despite the age limit, underage students were thinking of possible ways to trick their way into the tournament, believing they could handle the dangerous tasks.

"Edgecombe looked over here. Ooh, do I sense sparks?" said Lizzie, standing beside Rosalie outside the castle.

"Pretty sure she's looking at Adrian…and she's not my type," she whispered.

Lizzie scrunched her nose. "Ugh, let her have him."

Though she had taken Rosalie's reveal better than expected, promising to keep it between them, it did not stop her from offering any attractive girl as a substitute for Emilia. In the five minutes they spent waiting for the other schools, she had pointed out any girl who briefly glanced in Rosalie's direction. As Pansy whined about the cold, loudly hinting for Draco to give her his cloak, Dumbledore called out from the back row about the arrival of Beauxbatons. A gigantic, powder-blue carriage soared towards the castle, guided through the air by golden winged horses. Once it landed a bit too close to the rows of Hogwarts students, a boy jumped down and unfolded a set of golden steps.

An elegantly dressed woman as tall as Hagrid emerged from the carriage. Rosalie wondered if they were possibly distant relatives. Kendra threatened Adrian with detention when he rudely commented on her stature. Greeting Dumbledore graciously, the woman, named Madame Maxime, waved her giant hand behind her to introduce her students, a dozen boys and girls descending down the steps.

"Tell me I'm seeing things," muttered Theodore, as Dante left the carriage.

"What is Salvatore doing here?" asked a bewildered Camille. "When did he start going to Beauxbatons?"

Their questions were soon answered when Maxime led her shivering students into the castle, Dante breaking away from the group to talk to Rosalie. His father had sent him to Beauxbatons to befriend the French Minister's son Julian, one of the students selected to participate in the tournament, after Emilia's failed date. Convincing her to show him around the castle, she sneaked away, against Lizzie's wishes.

"It's kinda huge so we can wait until after dinner," she said, sitting at the Slytherin table. "I just wanted to get out of the cold. Your father seriously sent you here for some business deal?"

Dante shrugged. "He doesn't like to lose. Emilia tried tagging along too but he said she'd have better luck becoming the next president of MACUSA. I thought it was best if Bryce didn't come either. He deals with enough crazy fans. Besides, I wanted to check on you."

"Haven't you been getting my letters?" He and Emilia had been writing to her at least once a week. "Nothing too exciting has been going on around here."

"No random ghost visits?" he asked, sitting beside her. "No weird dreams?"

"Not since we were at Enchant," she replied. "Bryce must've been right about her messing with me but my dreams are always weird, Dante. Last night, I had one about Moody being locked in a trunk but to be honest, I wouldn't be entirely unhappy about that. He's creepy."

"Not the most amiable person." He placed his hand over hers. "I'm glad you haven't been haunted lately but since I'm here now, why don't you tell me what she looked like so I can keep an eye out?"

"Well, she—"

Their conversation was interrupted by frenzied students flooding into the Great Hall. Girls were fighting over lipsticks and eyeliners and ensuring that they did not have a hair out of place. Behind a group of gossiping Gryffindor girls, she saw Ron talking animatedly to Harry and Hermione, his hands moving wildly in the air. The Beauxbatons students joined the Ravenclaw table, scarves and shawls wrapped around their heads, while the Durmstrang students, dressed in heavy furs, stood by the doorway.

"How's my hair, Rosie?" asked Lizzie, fixing her braid. "We have to get Krum to sit with us."

"Krum?" repeated Rosalie. "Wait, the quidditch player?"

She nodded in excitement. "He goes to Durmstrang. I never thought he'd come to Hogwarts for the tournament. I figured he'd be too busy with quidditch but he must be taking a break. I've never met him in person before. He's so fit, isn't he?"

Krum's injuries from the World Cup had fully healed but he was still grumpy looking. "Sure…" Dante chuckled at her reluctance. "He's…definitely something."

The Slytherins eyed his every move and once he sat at their table with the other Durmstrang students, they followed like little ducklings, fighting to get the closest seat. Taking ahold of Rosalie's arm, Lizzie pulled her down the table, beating Vivienne to a seat directly in front of the famous quidditch player. Dante greeted Krum and a couple Durmstrang boys like old friends and introduced them to Rosalie, who did her best to say hello in Bulgarian.

Dimitri grinned. "That vas very good."

Krum nodded in agreement, making some Slytherin girls glower at her. After a short speech from Dumbledore, food appeared on the table. The feast was grander than usual, including foreign dishes to welcome their visitors. As she reached for a bowl of bouillabaisse, it slid to the empty side of the table. She stood up to retrieve it but Draco beat her to it, keeping it by him.

"Really? You're going to eat all that yourself, Malfoy?" She peered at the side of the bowl. "Don't see your name on it."

"Salvatore's lying to you," he whispered. "His father sent him all the way here for some business proposal? Anyone who knows that family knows his mother can hardly stand it when he and Emilia are at Ilvermorny."

"Whatever this is, I'm not falling for it," she hissed.

"He's lying about what happened outside Enchant too. I'm the one who found you, Dursley." Draco checked if anyone was eavesdropping but everyone was too enraptured by Krum. "One minute, Alec was trying to take you to the hospital wing for whatever reason and the next, you all passed out. You looked like you had been petrified and Dante told me to leave. He put some glass orb on your chest and it started to glow red then you woke up."

Rosalie thought of the orb she had seen in her head when Celeste touched her. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, suspiciously. "How do I know you're not making it up?"

"Because you're the most annoying person I've ever met but you're not stupid, Dursley," he said, a twisted compliment. "If he wasn't doing something wrong, why did they lie that Alec knocked you out?"

"You're trying to trick me," she insisted. "Dante's my friend. He would never try to hurt me."

Turning to return her seat, she bumped into someone and her surroundings changed, to a spacious, circular office with all sorts of strange objects and moving portraits lining the walls. She saw Snape by the fireplace, looking the same as he did in the memory from the runes book, across from a tearful Celeste. Her uniform was covered in dust and debris and she had a deep cut across her cheek. Dumbledore was in the office as well, standing behind his desk with a solemn expression.

"Headmaster, this is all a misunderstanding," she said, wiping her cheek. "I would never—how can you think I'm capable of something like that?"

"Because you showed me the truth yourself, Miss Carrow." As he picked up a snow globe on the desk, Rosalie noticed Snape slip his wand out from under his sleeve. "The safety of our students must always come first and I am afraid that this latest incident is out of my hands. The school governors and the Minister of Magic agree that this is our sole option."

"Professor, please," she begged. "Please don't let him—I didn't do anything wrong. You can't do this to me. I'm innocent. Someone's framing me. They must've tampered with my memories."

"You've left us no choice, Celeste," Snape said, regretfully.

"Sev—"

Celeste vanished from the office in the blink of an eye. Rosalie found herself back in the Great Hall, in front of Snape.

"Dursley, have you suddenly gone mute?" he asked, no trace of the sympathy he showed to the blonde teenager.

"S—sorry, professor," she stuttered, reeling from the short memory. "I um…I forgot I have to work on an essay for Ancient Runes."

Leaving the Great Hall, she stopped at the sight of Celeste by the staircase. "What's the matter, princess? See something you shouldn't?"

"You aren't dead." Rosalie walked over to the amused girl. "You are trapped. You were in Dumbledore's office with him and Snape and there was this snow globe. It looked like it had a mini version of Hogwarts. I think you're inside it."

"A time prism," said Celeste, wrapping a bandage around her hand. "It's a mimic of this world in a contained space where time stops. That's why I didn't know how many years it's been. It's really old magic that they used as punishment because it restricts magic. You're basically a muggle but it was banned in the 1800s for being too severe and driving people mad. Lucky me. Who knew Dumbledore was so sneaky?"

"Why would he put you in there?" questioned Rosalie.

"Because my family doesn't have the greatest reputation and for all his talk of choosing to see the best in his students, he'll readily believe some dimwit like Randall Turpin over me. Even Severus sided with him," she said, bitterly. "It has to still be in the castle if we're able to make this connection. It's going to be somewhere well hidden but it'll give off a lot of magical energy. I know a potion that can track it. It's way harder than anything you'll learn in a classroom. I don't know if a newbie witch can handle it."

"I—I can try," she offered. "I'm getting good at potions."

Celeste smiled. "I knew I could count on you. It's a tough potion and it'll take awhile to mature properly. I'd say around Christmas. A lot of the ingredients will be in Snape's storeroom. He keeps it locked tight but I know a secret entrance and he'd never suspect you. The rest you could get at the apothecary in Hogsmeade."

"Rosie?" Dante left the Great Hall. "Were you talking to someone?"

"Myself. I was getting tired of the Krum lovefest so I came out here to get ready for our tour. I'm trying to remember all of the trick steps," she lied. Celeste was still on the staircase. "Ready?"

He lowered himself into a bow. "Lead the way, my lady."


	6. Let It Out

"Generally, the longer you stay in one spot, the more likely you are to get caught."

If anyone had asked Rosalie a year or even one week ago what she would be doing at this very moment, sneaking into a professor's private storeroom to steal ingredients at the request of a sixteen year old girl trapped in a snow globe would be nowhere on her list, due to the sheer insanity of such an idea. Saying she was onboard with breaking into the heavily guarded room of a professor who openly despised her and would relish the chance to give her detention for the rest of the year and actually doing it were two very different things. The last time she had felt this much internal panic was when Mina convinced her to throw a party while her parents and Dudley were at a company event.

Celeste lacked Mina's patience, believing that pointing out the time sensitive nature of their mission would motivate her instead of deepening her anxiety. Knowing it was now or never, she hurriedly stashed the necessary ingredients into her bag. She fumbled with the latch and with how fast she looked down both sides of the empty corridor, praying that no one was around, it was a miracle that her head had not fallen off her shoulders.

"Wasn't that easy? Take a breath," said Celeste, leaning against the wall. "We can get started on that potion now. Everyone's upstairs watching people drop their names in that stupid goblet. I'll guide you through each step but you need complete concentration. One mistake and you could end up in St. Mungo's with horns growing out of your forehead."

Closing her bag, she headed back towards the common room. "Rose." Alec was in the Potions classroom, standing by a bubbling cauldron. "I thought you'd be with Lizzie to cheer on whichever Hogwarts students think they're worthy of being the champion. I heard the Weasleys were working on an aging potion, which won't end well."

"I was um—" Celeste nudged her forward, her hand beginning to flicker against her back. "I stayed up late with Hermione in the library so I slept in. Why are you in here?"

The blonde teenager was no longer by her side, leaving the two of them alone in the dungeons. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she entered the classroom and peered at the lime green potion inside the cauldron. Alec explained that Snape wanted to give him more responsibility, having him lead the upcoming seventh year lesson on healing potions. He decided to practice making the potion, knowing Kendra would jump at the opportunity to correct him and smugly prove her superior knowledge.

"That girl can't help herself. She corrected McGonagall yesterday and I swear she was about to throw a desk at her." Rosalie giggled at the mental image of McGonagall pulling a wrestling move on the obnoxious Head Girl. "If she doesn't get picked as champion, she might burn the castle to the ground."

"I bet," she replied, fixing the strap on her shoulder. "So is it supposed to be like this or is Kendra going to rip you apart?"

"Let's find out. Do you trust me?" he asked, ladling the potion into a vial.

She silently nodded then flinched as he dragged the tip of his wand across her palm, creating a shallow cut. Holding the vial, he tilted it slightly, letting its contents pour over the fresh wound. Her entire body felt numb as he blew on her palm to activate the key ingredient. A cooling sensation washed over her, like she had dipped her hand in a bucket of ice, and the wound healed within seconds.

"Good as new," he said, flashing her a half smile. His thumb gently brushed over her palm. "I know we haven't talked about that night at _Enchant_. We kind of just acted like it never happened."

"I sh—" He did not let go of her hand. "It was an accident. We don't need to talk about it, Alec."

" _I_ need to," he insisted. "My memory's still hazy and I'd sooner trust a giant than believe a word from the Salvatores but if it was my fault, I don't want you to think it was on purpose. I would never hurt you. Dante knows how to provoke me and I shouldn't have let my anger take control. I'm sorry."

"I feel like I should apologize too." He raised his brow. "I didn't mean to put you in that situation. I wanted everyone to get along. It sounds silly when I say it out loud…like I'm the host of some lame kid's show."

"Not at all," he said, moving around the desk. "Maybe a little too optimistic but that's what I like about you, Rose. You have this infectious light that brightens any room you're in and it's why people gravitate towards you. Don't ever feel like you have to apologize for being that way."

Celeste reappeared on top of the desk, looking disgusted. "Don't make me vomit all over my favorite boots. We're a little busy so can you put a pause on the flirting and focus?"

A flustered Rosalie stumbled out of the classroom, mumbling about finishing a letter to Mina. Her voice carried through the open doorway, faintly promising to meet him in the Great Hall after a quick trip to the common room. Alec watched her walk down the corridor, gripping the strap of her bag like it contained precious cargo.

The truth was that his memory was not as spotty as he claimed, though he kept that information to himself. He remembered bits and pieces of what happened after forcing her out of _Enchant_ , how they had argued over her friendship with Barnes and the Salvatores. Whether the friendship was genuine or not, Alec had known the three troublesome Americans longer than her and the danger they were capable of inflicting on others. His sole concern was protecting Rosalie from getting hurt, physically or emotionally.

Lizzie had arrived in the midst of her yelling at him for his misplaced paranoia. One minute, she was ranting about being able to make her own decisions and the next, she went rigid, reminding him of when she passed out in his room. She began complaining about a severe headache and as Lizzie went to help her, he noticed the benches shaking and street lamps bending like wilted flowers. Right before he passed out, he remembered a force slamming into his chest like being whacked by a troll's club.

Since that night, Alec had kept a closer eye on her. He had spent more time in the library in the past week than he had in the past seven years, searching for any books on legilimency. It was why he knew Rosalie had lied about being there last night with Granger, who had been alone at a table with a pile of books in her pointless crusade for house elf rights.

Leaving the dungeons, he nearly collided with a pack of first years running to join the massive group gathered around the large wooden cup that was surrounded by a thin golden line. Many students were eating their breakfast outside the Great Hall, holding bowls and plates to not miss a chance at seeing which Hogwarts students wanted to try their luck. Cheers followed each person who worked up the courage, the Ravenclaws even clapping enthusiastically for Kendra.

Amongst the chattering students was a far more interesting scene: Dante and Snape by the hourglasses used to record house points, having a tense conversation.

"You will not speak to me that way, Mister Salvatore," hissed Snape, curling his lip in a way that he usually reserved for Potter. "You may not attend Hogwarts but you will show a professor proper respect. Do I need a word with your headmistress?"

"I give respect to those who earn it," he countered, with an air of trademark arrogance. "If anything happens, it's on all of you. I'm not letting history repeat itself because clearly, I'm the only who gives a damn. You didn't take it seriously then and you're not doing it now."

Catching Alec's eye, he threw one last scornful look at Snape and walked over to Julian Laurent, the French Minister's son and his supposed reason for being at Hogwarts. Dante glanced over at the Slytherins busy cheering on Cassius and Lucian, both having placed their names in the Goblet of Fire earlier in the morning.

"Was he whining about the food, sir?" Alec asked Snape. "Not up to his standards?"

"Nothing important, Cabot." Snape was as impenetrable as ever, a blank slate. "Do keep an eye on him for me. As you well know, he can be…a handful at times."

"When is he not? If you're not busy, could I ask you something?" He paused for a moment, carefully choosing his words. "Last night, I was helping Clearwater with that OWL tutoring session in the library. The practice test had a question about legilimency and its limits. Stebbins went on about some woman in Portugal who could stop someone from lifting their arm by just looking at them. I thought I'd get the information straight so we don't have an entire year failing their Charms exam. My father said you're one of the best, that the Dark Lord himself couldn't get inside your head if he wanted."

"Stebbins does enjoy his dramatics but he is not entirely inaccurate," replied Snape. "There are cases of witches and wizards showing abilities that exceed the norm. I've heard of such cases. However, it is not something to toy with…it can be quite dangerous. I'd advise you to err on the side of caution and inform him and his peers that a basic answer will suffice. There's no need for hypotheticals. I highly doubt such a question will appear on the exam. Legilimency is not part of our curriculum."

Alec lied that it was possibly an old practice test, composed from a different curriculum, hoping that he was able to block Snape from his mind. Rosalie always seemed to do it with ease but unless the stony professor shared her gifts, he was merely above average in the difficult art. It did not help that Snape rarely showed emotion. After a full minute of staring at him with his expressionless eyes, resembling two black holes, he showed no signs of distrust, excusing himself to the dungeons.

"You missed it, Alec. Fred and George made an aging potion to get over the line and at first, it looked like it worked but then they were thrown back and grew these long white beards," Lizzie told him, fighting back giggles. "It was hysterical. Apparently, Fawcett and Summers have them too. I wish Rosie could've seen it. Have you seen her?"

"Only for a bit," he said, watching Angelina Johnson anxiously approach the goblet. "She said she slept in and had to finish a letter to her friend."

"She didn't finish it yet? She was running out the door when I got up," said Lizzie, baffled. "It must be a pretty long letter but I don't see how when she can't tell her most of what's going on. I hope she's done soon. I didn't want to go to breakfast without her. With all of the Durmstrang students, it's hard to get a seat."

"I'll get her," he offered, pushing his sister towards the doors. "Go on. I heard Daphne's planning to ask Blaise to the first Hogsmeade trip. If she beats you to it, you'll be stuck with Pucey."

The mention of her longtime crush was enough to distract her. As she bolted into the Great Hall, crashing into a petite Hufflepuff girl without apologizing, he headed to the Slytherin common room.

"But it says cut," said Rosalie, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. The boiling potion made her room feel like it was in the middle of a volcano. "See? Last line."

Rosalie held up the book to a laidback Celeste sitting on Lizzie's bed. "And I'm telling you to crush it. I was already at NEWT level when I arrived at Hogwarts. Sometimes, you find ways to improve on a potion that was invented centuries ago. Sev taught me a lot outside of lessons. From my first one, he could tell I wasn't being challenged. Crush the beans."

Following her instructions, she pressed the blunt side of the knife against the sopophorous beans, pouring its silvery juice into the cauldron. "Were you two close?" Celeste moved to the floor, crossing one leg over the other. "In the memories I saw, it looked like it. You said you were friends. Was that rumor true or a joke?"

"I wanted to see his reaction," replied Celeste, nonchalantly. "I thought of him more as the family I wanted since my real one never envisioned a future for me beyond being a boring housewife who doted on her lazy husband. There was a time when I did like him in a more romantic way but then I learned that no matter how much we had in common, I could never compete with his love for a dead woman…a woman who couldn't appreciate his brilliance. From then on, he was probably the closest thing I had to an actual friend."

"But he trapped you in some other world," argued Rosalie, stirring the potion with her wand. "He didn't try to defend you. He just accepted that it was true. That's not being a good friend. I could never imagine doing that to someone."

"Can't all be rays of sunshine and hope like you, Rosie." A blush crept in her cheeks as Celeste tucked back a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face. "Maybe if I had a friend like you all those years ago, I wouldn't be where I am now."

At a knock on the door, she turned her head. Alec called out to her from the other side. Hastily tucking the cauldron and stolen ingredients under her bed, she fixed herself up before opening the door to a curious Alec.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked, stepping into the room.

"No one. You probably heard me talking to myself," she replied, secretly kicking a pouch of lacewing flies behind her. "I sometimes read my letters out loud before sending them to Mina so I don't accidentally tell her things I shouldn't."

"Like how you somehow woke up before the other girls and slept in at the same time?" he wondered. "I saw Lizzie walk by when I was making the potion. Where were you?"

Celeste encouraged her to erase his memory, her actual choice of words ("Get rid of this nosy beanstalk") more violent. The longer Rosalie let the silence hang in the air, the more questions he would ask and she would surely crack under pressure. Her heart pounding with each passing second, she grasped his arm.

"I—I went for a jog to clear my head from a bad dream," she stuttered. "After you showed me the healing potion, you wanted to take me to breakfast because Dante was waiting for me and you didn't want me alone with him. I'll meet you in the Great Hall."

"Nice one," said Celeste, approvingly. Alec's eyes were glazed over, similar to how the Slytherins looked under Moody's imperius curse. "Is that the first time you've done it?"

"What if it didn't work?" whispered a fearful Rosalie, lowering her hand.

Alec blinked twice and left the room. "Definitely did. A playboy's mind isn't a tough one to crack. You've got a lot of potential. Imagine what you could do if you really trained up but you won't get that in a stuffed up place like this. Why don't we test your limits? What's something you really want? You miss your muggle friends, don't you? Melanie…Mindy…no, Mina, isn't it? Go visit her."

With a mischievous smile, she picked up the blue envelope on Rosalie's pillow. It contained the last letter Mina had sent, containing the latest gossip and details on the annual Halloween party at Smelting's. It was a tradition for the students to throw a massive party, with permission from the headmaster, at the nearby lake. Rosalie regretted missing out on shopping for a costume with her friends and setting up decorations. She appreciated Alec's gesture but sending letters back and forth was not the same as seeing her friends every day.

The idea of attending the party was tempting but getting inside Alec's head was easy compared to someone like Dumbledore. What if he caught her in the act? Would he consider her dangerous, like he had Celeste, and throw her into the time prism? Celeste followed her out of the dungeons, listing reasons to go to the party.

"Is it so bad to do something for yourself for once? It's a party. It's not like you're fleeing the country," she said, waving the envelope at her face. "Be bold. Let's see what you can do."

As Rosalie snatched the envelope, she spotted Dumbledore and McGonagall by the double doors to the Great Hall, tending to a pair of Hufflepuff boys a year above her. Both were sporting knee-length snow white beards and splotchy purple faces that rivaled her father's when he was shouting himself hoarse at Harry. McGonagall ordered them up to the hospital wing, reprimanding them for their foolishness.

"An attempt at crossing the Age Line. I do applaud their efforts," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "They certainly won't be the last before the end of the night. The professors tell me you're excelling in your lessons. I'm glad to hear you're adjusting so well."

Celeste chanted 'Do it' in her ear. "I won't lie, it's been tough. It's hard not seeing my other friends and having to lie to them about all this. I was wondering if…well, my old school is having a Halloween party. I was hoping I could go tonight. I wouldn't stay too long."

Her spirits were not lifted as he peered down at her with remorse. "I understand it is difficult to be separated from your loved ones but it would be unwise to let you travel to the muggle world. I'm aware of what transpired at the World Cup and the Ministry may wish to put that incident in the past…however, I would not be doing my duty as headmaster if I allowed you out of the castle. Your cousin's fame comes at the price of being a target for dark forces and that extends to you, Rosalie."  
"Professor, please," she begged. "Being Harry's cousin doesn't mean anything. I'm no one special. It's for one night. If I get attacked by some psychopath crashing a muggle Halloween party, then I'll clean this entire castle up and down for a month and give Filch some time off. I'm asking for one favor. Please let me go to the party."

His pale eyes slid out of focus. "Yes, I don't see the harm. Enjoy yourself but do be careful."

Seeing her influence begin to wane, she gripped his wrinkled hand. "And I'll need a portkey. It's not like I can pop in through the fireplace. Make sure it takes me to Smelting's at exactly 5. Forget this conversation."

A soup can appeared in her hand. Feeling him fighting back, a sharp pain striking her head, she stuffed the can into her bag and hurried into the Great Hall. Celeste had vanished again, leaving Rosalie to celebrate her victory alone. She should have felt some guilt for using her legilimency but she could not help the smile tugging at her lips, at being able to outsmart such a formidable wizard.

"Here you are," said Lizzie, tearing her shrewd eyes away from Daphne. "Why are you so happy?"

"Dumbledore's letting me see Mina tonight," replied Rosalie. She grabbed a green apple from a bowl. "At Smelting's, we have this fun Halloween party and he said I could go. It's a one time favor but I'm really excited. I haven't seen them in forever."

"If you miss them so much, why not make it a permanent trip?" asked Pansy, snidely.

Lizzie chucked a grape at her. "Mind your business." She turned back towards Rosalie, intrigued. "How'd you pull that off?"

"Guess he could tell I was homesick," said Rosalie, with a shrug. "I'll only stay for a couple hours. I'm just missing who gets picked as champion. It's not a big deal."

"Can you take me with you? I can't deal with all this moping." She nodded at the Slytherin boys, many looking like they were in mourning. "It's almost making me feel bad for Pucey."

After showing Dante around the castle the previous night, she returned to the common room to an unusual sight: the boys barricading themselves in a corner against an exasperated Alec and Snape, guarding their treasured radio. McGonagall had spoken to Snape about their boisterous behavior during the matches, especially late at night, their cheers and shouts carrying all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

In a compromise, Snape agreed to control their outbursts by limiting their radio time. It would be locked away in a cabinet in the common room and the key was a specific word chosen by Vivienne, who had zero interest in quidditch. Before going up to bed, Rosalie and Lizzie had watched the boys desperately try to guess the word, leading to Draco saying Alec's name so many times that it sounded like a sex dream.

Rosalie spent most of the day preparing to return to Smelting's. Wanting it to be a surprise, she decided against writing to Mina. At fifteen minutes to five, she left her room, keeping the cauldron safely hidden, with her packed bag. No one paid her much mind, with the boys bombarding an apathetic Vivienne with compliments in hopes of getting access to the radio. Vivienne tuned them out, busy staring at herself in her diamond encrusted mirror and reapplying her dark red lipstick. Lizzie was by the fireplace with Draco, Theodore, and Blaise, dragged into writing down their incorrect guesses.

"Help me," she mouthed, stabbing Theodore's shoulder with her quill when he snapped at her to pay attention.

Waving goodbye, Rosalie walked through the open archway and towards the quidditch pitch. She waited for Dumbledore to appear, fully aware that she messed with his mind and subjecting her to a stern lecture that ended with her getting detention every day until graduation. At exactly five o'clock, she felt that familiar tug on her navel and landed at the gated entrance to Smelting's. Just seeing her former school filled her heart with joy. A sudden _pop_ broke her out of her thoughts.

Her eyes widened as Alec, Lizzie, Draco, Theodore, Adrian, Graham, and Vivienne appeared on the freshly mowed grass. She closed her eyes tightly, until she saw dancing white dots, and opened again but they were still in front of her, their faces ranging from annoyance to curiosity. Lizzie awkwardly explained that their presence was due to Snape, who had entered the common room after Priscilla and Camille dramatically told him the boys were harassing Vivienne. Forcing them to attend the Halloween feast, he noticed Rosalie's absence and backed into a corner, Lizzie mentioned her Smelting's visit. He had sent Alec after her as a chaperone.

"I don't need a babysitter," said Rosalie, crossing her arms. "What is everyone's damage? It's not like Michael Myers is gonna pop up and stab me."

"Who—never mind, it's not babysitting," argued Alec. "You can't run off to the muggle world by yourself."

"Why are they with you?" she questioned, indicating the other Slytherins.

"Because you ruined our date, you filthy mutt," snarled Vivienne. "Instead of a night alone, he has to be your babysitter."

"It wasn't a date. You wanted help with your Charms essay," said Alec, unaffected by her pout. "No one told you to come, Vivienne. None of you should be here. Give them the damn password so they can listen to the match."

"Here's an idea. You all go back and I'll go to my party," suggested Rosalie. Before she took a single step, Alec lifted her off the ground with one arm. "If you put me down, I would be halfway there already."

Continuing to hold onto her, he moved away from the Slytherins. He lowered her back onto the grass with a stern expression.

"We both know how you _convinced_ Dumbledore to agree to this," he hissed in her ear. "That's not a conversation to have now but you're mental if you think I'm letting you wander off on your own, Rose. Either I stay or we both go back and I'll tear up that envelope."

"Ugh, fine," she conceded. "But you can't be weird. They don't know anything about magic and to them, it's like card tricks and pulling rabbits out of hats."

"Why would we pull rabbits from hats?" asked Graham, confused.

"And Mina flirts with anyone who's halfway decent looking…so you won't have to worry, Malfoy." He responded with a rude hand gesture. "Can we go or is Snape going to join us too?"

Instead of the school, Rosalie headed to Kelly's Tavern, a local diner. It was tradition for her friends to eat at the diner on Halloween, Quinn's mother owning the restaurant and giving them free meals. For once, Vivienne and Rosalie were in agreement, wanting Alec to return to Hogwarts, but he refused, threatening to end Rosalie's night of fun. Her friends were seated at a back table, sipping milkshakes. Mina was the first to spot her, abandoning her plate and almost tackling her to the floor.

"You bitch! You didn't tell me you were coming!" she shouted, burying her head in Rosalie's shoulder.

Quinn and Sasha, her two closest friends after Mina, joined in, all four girls jumping up and down in the middle of the diner. Their voices overlapped and while it may have sounded like gibberish to a complete stranger, Rosalie could understand every word. Remembering that they were not alone, she introduced them to the Hogwarts students.

"Ooh, you must be TDH," said Sasha, her dusty green eyes on Alec. Rosalie nudged her side. "Sorry. Rosie's brother is really nosy so we always write our letters in code when we're talking about people. It's Alec, right?"

"Right." Vivienne was not amused by her friends' stares. "What does TDH mean?"

"Our code is top secret but I bet you could guess," said Mina, with a wink. "You guys didn't bring costumes?"

"It was a…last minute trip," replied Lizzie. "Are we going to stick out?"

Quinn shook her head. "You'll be fine. Half the older kids don't wear them because they think they're too cool. Plus with your uniforms, you could hike up the skirt a bit and say you're a sexy school girl. Feel free to order anything while we help Rosie get ready. Say you go to Smelting's."

Heading to the bathroom, Rosalie changed into her costume. She had packed it with her belongings, not knowing whether Halloween was a big deal in the wizarding world. Maybe a small part of her had hoped Dumbledore would allow her to visit Smelting's, before she even knew about her legilimency. Though they had been apart for months, it felt like no time had passed for her and her friends.

"Please tell me you've climbed that male model like a tree," said Mina. The lewd comment almost made Rosalie mess up her eyeliner. "If you won't, I will."

"He's a teacher," she countered, her cheeks as red as her cape.

" _Assistant_. There's a difference." Mina smirked at her. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"If that Draco guy wasn't such a snob, you'd be really cute together too," said Quinn, fixing her hair. "You could use either of them to make Evan jealous."

Rosalie and Mina shared a look of disgust, for different reasons. "Why would she lower herself for my brother? We have standards, Quinn. If you want to make your move, Rosie, I'll keep that hag away. She looks like she's working with one brain cell so it won't be hard. You should take him to the kissing rock."

"I'm putting a pin in this now," said Rosalie. "Alec is a friend, nothing more. There won't be any action at the kissing rock. Pinky promise you three won't scheme like you did with Jenny two years ago."

Lizzie had been the only one to take Quinn's offer, sipping a chocolate milkshake. She seemed to be enjoying it, ignoring her brother's hushed whispers to act her age.

"It took you that long to put on a coat?" asked Adrian, her black pea coat matching the other girls' and covering her costume.

"No free peeks, cutie," said Sasha, tapping his nose.

"Burn your nose off," Theodore muttered to him.

"Can you wait until we're at the party to ride him?" teased Mina. "Come on, it's already starting."

The lake was a short walking distance from the diner. Following the sounds of music and laughter, they arrived at the party already in full swing. Some kids had an early start in braving the cold water, their clothes splayed out on the grass. As Rosalie removed her coat, she tossed it over to a pile on a bench. Going with their chosen fairytale theme, Rosalie, Mina, Quinn, and Sasha were dressed as Snow White, Cinderella, Ariel, and Belle respectively, with a modern twist.

"Let's go say hi to Devon and his friends first," said Mina, her eyes on a group of sixteen year old boys by the snacks table. "He broke up with Chatty Chloe last week and he needs someone to comfort him."

Rosalie was stopped from following them, her red heels glued to the dirt. Alec slipped his wand into his back pocket.

"What are you doing?" she asked, fighting the spell. "You said if I let you stay, I could go to the party."

"It's chilly. You should put the coat back on," he suggested, her coat appearing in his hand. "I think we're all a little cold."

"I'm not wearing the coat. Stop being so lame," she said, in frustration. "It's Halloween and in the muggle world, we wear costumes. I'm Snow White. What's wrong with my outfit?"

She narrowed her eyes, daring him to speak his mind. Vivienne and Lizzie faced him, waiting for his answer, and Adrian and Graham subtly shook their heads. Just as he opened his mouth to inevitably dig himself in a deeper hole, she heard someone call out to her. Evan walked towards them, dressed like Han Solo and holding a red cup. The cut of his shirt exposed his muscular chest, turning her brain to mush. Lizzie's eyes were focused on his biceps and despite Vivienne's hatred for muggles, even she could not deny his good looks.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, wrapping his free arm around her.

Alec's spell lifted, causing her to stumble into him. "Surprise," she said, weakly. "There wasn't really anything going on at my new school so my friends tagged along to uh have some fun. This is Evan. He's Mina's older brother and he goes to Smelting's too, obviously."

"It's nice to meet you," he said to the Hogwarts students.

"Hi," replied a breathless Lizzie. For a second, a muscle twitched in Blaise's cheek. "I'm…right, I'm Lizzie. These are…other people."

"Oh, Rosie's mentioned you. I'm an artist too." His eyes fell on Alec, his crossed arms highlighting his own muscles. "Have we met before?"

"Doubt it," he said, his face as stony as Snape's.

"Ignore my awkward brother," said Lizzie, patting his shoulder. "I've always been the social one in the family. He's got the people skills of a stale piece of bread."

"Did you get a drink yet?" he asked Rosalie, his hand moving to her waist. "We should get you one before Dudley shows up. I'm sure you'll want a fresh cup to throw in his face."

"Actually, we were in the middle of a—" started Alec.

"I'd love one," she interrupted. "I'm gonna say hi to everybody and I'll meet back up with you guys."

The Slytherins stood out like giants among mice, their aversion to muggles making them unwilling to mingle with the Smelting's students. Only Lizzie had a semblance of normality, talking to her friends and learning about muggle objects like video cameras while pretending she was not from an entirely different world. Rosalie's happiness was dampened by the arrival of Dudley and his gang, her brother reacting negatively to her presence.

He could not voice his opinions aloud, too frightened of talking about magic around his friends, but he was his boorish self, muttering rude remarks under his breath and inserting himself between her and any boy.

"Are you sure you're related?" asked Lizzie, as they grabbed another cup of punch. "You told me he could be a bit much but he's…a lot…"

"Yeah, he makes Harry seem reasonable but oddly, I think it's his way of showing he cares," explained Rosalie. "Or he likes telling my dad how many boys he can harass in a single night. I like to believe the first option. He and Alec might want to join forces."

Lizzie sighed. "I'm sorry about him. He's—I don't even know. He likes being protective of people. It's like he thinks we're all baby birds that need to be under his wing. I'd promise he won't hex anyone but he's been watching Evan like a creepy statue. If you two want to sneak off—"

"No, nope," insisted Rosalie, shaking her head. "It's basic girl code. He's my best friend's older brother and I could never do that to her. Besides, we're just friends."

"Don't be daft," said Lizzie, with a snort. "He's been hanging around you all night. I mean, he's not the only one but I can tell you like him too. We can't help who we fall for, Rosie. I'm not saying this to get you off the Emilia train but why not sample another…dessert?"

Rosalie giggled. "As tempting as that is, if I tried that specific one, my brother would blow a gasket and I'd never leave my house. Unless I went all Dark Phoenix, I'd be trapped there for eternity."

"You have to show me those muggle comics of yours or I'll never understand these references," Lizzie replied, looking at her like she spoke gibberish. She glanced over at the Slytherin boys huddled by a tree. "Depressing. I'm going to tell Alec to bring them back to the school. Where is he? Vivienne's missing too…oh, that's never good."

Lizzie questioned them about the whereabouts of her brother and Vivienne. According to Draco, they had been having a heated conversation and disappeared into the woods. Noting that they had been gone for over twenty minutes, Blaise proposed searching for them, despite Adrian's assurance that they were having 'alone time'.

"Dursley, you're new but I think you can guess what they're doing." He shrugged at a repulsed Lizzie. "What? We all know it's true. I'm shocked we haven't heard Vivienne by now."

"Either way, we're looking for them so you idiots can stop moping," said Lizzie, pointing towards the woods. "It's not like we're in any danger so we'll cover more ground if we split up. If we find them or merlin help me, a piece of their clothing, we'll send up red sparks. The muggles will think they're fireworks. Got it?"

Knowing the woods far better than the Slytherins, Rosalie walked towards the usual hookup spot: the kissing rock. If they were getting intimate, or Vivienne was hoping to, she could imagine her overhearing a Smelting's student mention it and wanting to lead Alec there. Pushing aside a low tree branch, she was startled by Draco, who was a few steps behind her.

"We're supposed to split up," she whispered.

He rolled his eyes. "It's not as if there's a thousand different directions, Dursley, and why are you whispering? Even if they hear us, it won't stop them from sucking off each other's faces. Do you know how many times a professor caught them last year? Filch found them in one of the broom closets and—"

"I _don't_ need the details," she said, cutting him off. "You'll need to send the sparks if we find them. I can't exactly hide a wand in this outfit."

"You're a pathetic witch," he muttered.

She crushed a twig beneath her heel. "If I wanted your opinion, I'd—"

A sharp pang of fear coursed through her body. Suddenly overwhelmed with a crippling dread and anxiety, she fell against an oak tree, her eyes brimming with tears. The woods faded away, replaced with an unfamiliar room lined with paintings of witches and wizards. Viktor Krum, the stunning silvery blonde Beauxbatons girl who Dante once referred to as Fleur Delacour, and Cedric were grouped around the fireplace. On either side of the three teenagers were Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Moody, Karkaroff, Maxime, Crouch, and Bagman, all staring at her with disbelief, apprehension, or suspicion.

She was back in the forest, still leaning on the tree. Draco's muffled voice joined a chorus of other voices, some like whispers and others like shouts.

"I didn't do it. I couldn't have—they can't let me compete," she mumbled. "This has to be a joke. Dumbledore knows I wouldn't do something this mental. Why don't they believe me?"

"Dursley, what are you on about?" asked Draco. Tears trickled down her face. "Why are you crying?"

"He can't be serious. How can I—this is a dream. I'm asleep in Gryffindor tower." She cried out, clutching her head. "What am I—Harry's in trouble. H—he's scared and—"

"Isn't that a typical day for him?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Dursley, you're not making sense. You're miles away from Hogwarts. How could you know what Potter's feeling? Did one of those muggles spike the punch? You need to calm down."

"What are you doing out here, Rosie?" she heard Dudley say spitefully.

He walked around a nearby tree, zipping his jeans. Fighting the intense pain, she could hardly keep her eyes open. Her palm felt extremely warm, the tree trunk softening under her touch.

"It's bad enough that you crashed the party. You had to bring more freaks along?" he asked, eyeing Draco with the same disdain the arrogant Slytherin showed her multiple times a day. "You didn't bring four eyes? What, are you two having a rough patch?"

"Are all muggles as stupid as you or did your brain fall out when your mother dropped you from the changing table and called it an accident?" spat Draco, his hand on Rosalie's back. "Your sister's clearly not okay and you want to insult her?"

Dudley snickered. "Who are you, her boyfriend? You should know that she loves attention. She's obviously faking. She'll have to use those acting skills to find a new home. Dad's not going to let you back in, you know."

"Dudley…" She winced, struggling to stop the constantly changing scenery. "Please just—"

"Did you seriously think he'd want a freak like you for a daughter?" he continued, oblivious to her pain. "I heard he's getting rid of all your stuff and turning your room into a game room. Honestly, I think they're glad to be rid of—"

"SHUT UP!" she shouted.

The pain finally subsided, Harry no longer invading her thoughts, and as she lifted her head, she heard panicked mumbling. To her horror, Dudley's mouth had completely vanished and he clawed at the skin where it used to be, his face slowly turning blue. She tried to reverse the spell but unable to concentrate, she made things worse, her brother's hands turning to stone and spreading down his limbs.

"Dursley, you need to relax," whispered Draco. He removed her hand from the tree, an enormous hole burned into its trunk. "I can fix this but you need to be calm."

Taking out his wand, Draco returned her brother to normal then knocked him unconscious. He kept his arm around her waist, preventing her from checking on him.

"Don't. I know you're stubborn but listen to me. We don't have a lot of time before the aurors show up to investigate who used underage magic," he explained, taking her deeper into the woods. "You'll get off with a warning for your first offense but you can't talk to them like this."

"W—where are we going? Let go," she said, pulling at his fingers.

Draco did not stop walking until they were in a wide clearing. His eyes passed over her with an uncharacteristic empathy. It was not the cold, scornful look he had thrown her way since learning about her relation to Harry, but the look of the boy she had first met who offered to help reunite her with her friends. She tensed up when he faced her in a different direction, their past interactions making her guarded.

"As crazy as it sounds, I'm trying to help," he said, sounding oddly genuine. "And before you say you're fine, you're not. You almost suffocated your brother and turned him into a statue and as irritating as he seemed, you didn't want it to happen. You were having a breakdown. I don't know what Potter has to do with it but it doesn't matter. You had an enchantment blocking your magic, right? I heard Snape and Alec talking about it the first night."

She quietly nodded. "My aunt enchanted a necklace to hide it because my mom didn't want me to be a witch. She wanted me to be normal."

"Muggle rubbish," he said, dismissively. "Well, all those years, you've been keeping it bottled up. Think of it like a balloon that's just waiting to pop. You're the balloon in this case and you need to let yourself pop by letting out your magic. See that tree with a mark shaped like a spiral? Focus on that and then scream as loud as you can. Go on."

In any other circumstance, she would be arguing back, not willing to trust a word out of his mouth. Her nerves stemming from a terrified Harry and almost killing her brother drove her to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her head, telling her it was pointless. Squeezing her eyes shut, she did as he said and screamed at the top of her lungs, feeling a tiny burst of energy flow through her fingertips. A calmness washed over her, lifting the tightness in her chest.

"I—I think it worked," she said, taking a deep breath.

Opening her eyes, she saw fallen trees and piles of ash all around her, extending at least ten miles in every direction. Draco's stunned expression confirmed what she thought, that she had somehow caused the destruction.

Alec apparated at her side, looking distraught. "Rose, are you hurt? Why did two aurors show up and say someone used underage magic? Why are you out—" In the midst of checking her face for any injuries, he noticed the wreckage. "What the hell is going on?"

A man, blonde and middle-aged, appeared, wearing forest green robes with a patch of criss-crossed wands on the lapel. "These the last two, Alec? Draco, your father will certainly be shocked to hear of you traveling to the muggle world. Shall we chalk it up to teenage rebellion? No need to worry. I can keep a secret." Turning away from the silent Draco, he grinned at Rosalie. "And who might you be?"

There was something unsettling about his smile, one that did not fully reach his ice blue eyes. "This is Rosalie, sir," replied Alec. "Rose, this is Vivienne's father. He's with the auror department. They're still on the hunt for Sirius Black and he was patrolling this area when they got the alert about underage magic."

"You can call me Declan. No need for formality outside the office. Yes, you're the late blooming witch…related to Harry Potter, aren't you?" His eyes darted around the clearing. "My, what's all this? Was this your doing, little one?"

Those two words sent her into a panic. There was no mistaking that voice, the voice of the masked man who approached her at the World Cup. Too frightened to speak, she hid behind Alec.

"It was like this when we got here, sir," said Draco, getting his and Alec's attention. "I tripped over a construction sign while I was chasing after her. She got spooked by the apparating sounds and I didn't want to get blamed if she got lost. I was the one who used magic too."

"And why is that?" asked Mr. Carrow.

He slipped back into his arrogance with ease. "Her slob of a brother started bothering her and he put his hands on me. It was self defense. I knocked him out, that's all. I would've done more but Dursley stopped me."

Mr. Carrow chuckled. "As I told Proudfoot, nothing to concern ourselves with and no one was seriously hurt. I trust you can handle this, Alec? You all should return to the castle. The muggle world may seem harmless but there are always dangers lurking."

"Thank you, sir. I promise it won't happen again," said Alec, looking back at a trembling Rosalie. With a soft _pop_ , Mr. Carrow apparated from the clearing. "Draco, the others are just up ahead. Why don't you give us a minute?"

"No, I want to leave," muttered Rosalie.

"You don't want to say goodbye to your friends?" She shook her head fervently. "I adjusted the portkey you used. Take it back to the castle and I'll talk to Mina and the others."

Handing her the soup can, Alec disappeared, leaving her and Draco. He started to walk past her until she grabbed his wrist.

"Why did you lie?" she asked, wanting to take her mind off of the man who had haunted her dreams for weeks. "Why didn't you tell them what I did?"

"Who would believe me?" he retorted. "Merlin knows I'm still thinking I imagined it. When I told you what to do, I wasn't expecting…all this."

Draco motioned to the fallen trees. "How did you…how did you know it would work?"

With a heavy sigh, he tensely admitted that he learned it from his cousin Gaius. Both being only children and the same age, they were very close, considering themselves more like brothers. As they began to show signs of magical ability, Gaius's father pushed him to excel, to prove that he was stronger and more powerful than Draco, part of his lifelong rivalry with Draco's father, his older brother. His harsh lessons proved Gaius's overwhelming strength but also made him unstable, his cousin showing difficulty in controlling his abilities.

To combat the pain, his uncle would take him into the backyard and have him unleash his magic. Draco watched him scream at the towering trees over and over and it took away his pain but not his growing resentment of his father. The day before a planned trip to Brazil to visit a family friend, he overheard a discussion between his aunt and his parents. His aunt worried about his cousin's mental state, citing his sudden aggression and his brooding nature.

"My father noticed it too," confessed Draco. "He said his magic was growing faster than he could handle. When he almost burned a guest room, he took him outside to let it out and Gaius said he did but I knew it was a lie. I had been practicing flying out back and he knocked down a few trees with a flick of his wrist. When they were in Brazil, he got really sick and the healers couldn't help him. He passed away a month before his eighth birthday. My aunt and uncle had a closed casket because they couldn't bear to look at him."

"T—that's horrible," said Rosalie, stunned.

"It's not going to happen to you," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "Gaius came from an ancient pureblood family. Like I said, you had all this magic bottled up for years. It was a one time thing. You won't burn Hogwarts to the ground, Dursley."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands remaining at his side. "Thank you…for helping me."

He pushed her arms away, any trace of compassion gone. "If you tell anyone, I'll deny it. We're not _friends_. I didn't want Alec thinking I messed with your head because for some reason, he'd rather believe a muggleborn over one of his own."

The other Slytherins were waiting a few feet outside the clearing. Upon seeing Rosalie, Vivienne looked more murderous than usual. Touching a part of the portkey, they were transported back to the entrance hall. Harry immediately on her mind, she sprinted up to the Gryffindor common room, not willing to wait for Alec. The Fat Lady was fast asleep, snoring rather loudly in spite of the deafening cheers behind her portrait. She did not appreciate being woken up by an impatient Rosalie, especially when she did not know the password.

"I do not care if you are a descendant of Godric Gryffindor himself," she said, indignantly. "No password, no entry. Instead of breaking into the Gryffindor common room, perhaps you should concern yourself with finding proper attire."

Rosalie clenched her fists. "Listen, you tone deaf crone, my cousin is Harry freakin' Potter. If you don't open in the next five seconds, I'll—"

The portrait swung open and at the first sign of disheveled hair, she jumped at Harry, refusing to loosen her grip.

He cradled the back of her head. "Rosie, where have you—" Hearing her sniffle, he pulled away, seeing her tear-stained face. "What's wrong? Ginny overheard Dumbledore let you go to Smelting's tonight."

"I thought something happened to you," said Rosalie, tearing up. "You were in this room with Krum, some Beauxbatons girl, and Cedric and then Dumbledore showed up with the other headmasters. You were terrified and nervous…"

"H—how do you know that?" he asked, bewildered.

"I felt it. Everything you were feeling, I felt it." She tried to catch her breath. "Then Dudley started pestering me, which made it worse."

Harry brought her to a secluded corridor. Sitting under a tapestry of trolls doing ballet, he told her what she had missed at the Halloween feast. Dumbledore announced the chosen champions from each school, their names spit out by the Goblet of Fire. After Cedric was declared the Hogwarts champion, to the delight of the Hufflepuffs, a fourth piece of parchment emerged from the goblet, bearing his name. At Hermione's insistence, he joined the three teenagers in a separate chamber and was forced to endure accusations of cheating by tricking the Age Line and having his name thrown in by an older student. Dumbledore defended him from Karkaroff and Maxime, believing that he was being truthful.

Rosalie's heart beat faster when she learned that Harry had to compete in the tournament. The dread from before returned as he mentioned Moody's wild theory that someone entered his name in a twisted scheme to kill him.

"I mean, that's mental. You know I wouldn't put my name in, Rosie," he said, running his hands through his hair. "Diggory was skeptical and Ron's being stupid. He thinks I used the invisibility cloak. Complete nutter, isn't he? Rosie."

She stared at the bare wall, a strange feeling in her gut. "Of course he believes you. He's just confused," she said, snapping out of her thoughts. "What if someone did trick the goblet? Was it at the Ministry before they brought it to Hogwarts? If it was there, he could've cast a spell on it."

"Who?" Taking his hand, Rosalie led him down the staircase. "Where are we going?"

Just as they reached the second floor, she saw Alec rounding the corner. "Lizzie said you ran off. Why are you not in the common room? Shouldn't you be in bed, _champ_?" Harry glared at him. "What are you two doing out past curfew? Kendra's patrolling tonight."

"We need to see Dumbledore. It's important," she said, trying to move past his burly frame. "Alec, this is serious. We have to talk to him."

"Dumbledore left for the Ministry about an hour after the feast," he replied, separating her and Harry. "My uncle needed his help with some business. I don't know when he'll be back so why don't you tell me and I'll relay the message?"

"Fine. Vivienne's father is the one who put Harry's name in the goblet," she stated. "He was one of those masked psychos at the World Cup. He's the one who almost attacked me."

Alec nodded. "Okay, you're overtired. Potter, get back to your room."

Rosalie argued with him as he forced her down to the dungeons. He refused to stop, even when she lied that he was hurting her wrist.

"Alec, I'm not crazy. You need to listen to me. Stop walking or I'll mak—" She shrunk under his gaze. "I—I'll make you."

Instead of the common room, he brought her into an empty classroom, the same one from their first tutoring session. He sat her on top of the desk, keeping his hands on top of hers.

"Rose, what you can do isn't something to fool around with when you want to get your way," he said, talking to her like a child. "You have no idea what you're doing. Snape thinks he was being lenient but I know you got in Dumbledore's head. Until you can properly control it, you have to swear to me you won't use it. All it takes is one mistake and you could get expelled or your wand snapped in half."

"I just—I wanted to see my friends," she admitted. "You can pop in and out of this place and go anywhere in the world but I can't. I miss them."

He looked down at her sympathetically. "I know you do. It's tough but in a couple months, it'll be the holidays and you can visit them. If you want to make it to the holidays, you can't go around accusing Declan Carrow of attacking you or putting Potter in danger."

"But he did," she repeated. "I recognized his voice and his eyes were visible in the mask. I'm not making this up. What do I gain from that?"

"It was dark," countered Alec. "What _I'm_ certain of is that you can't give Vivienne more reasons to want to rip you to shreds. I already got an earful from her about you tonight."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "I didn't make her come to Smelting's."

"It wasn't that. She was angry that I went all that way to keep an eye on you and said if it were anyone else, I would've not checked on them at all or paid them to tell Snape that I did. She was right." His hand moved to her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I care about you, Rose. I want to keep you safe. Whoever that scumbag was, he won't ever come near you again. That's why I didn't want you alone out there."

"Maybe he did find me again," she said, refusing to back down from her theory.

"Rose, Declan wasn't even at the match," he explained. "He was supposed to be in the Top Box with us but he cancelled last minute to follow a lead on Bertha Jorkins. I know you'd feel better if you could put a name to that monster but you don't have to be afraid. I'll always be there to protect you."

More for his sanity than hers, she agreed to drop her suspicions of Mr. Carrow. It had made her all the more hesitant to help Celeste, which she did not react well to when appearing at the foot of her bed the next morning. Though she did not flat out deny her father was capable of terrible things, she was adamant that they were polar opposites, the very reason she despised her family.

Rosalie actively tuned her out, choosing to spend time with Harry. She could not stand being around the pleading apparition and the Slytherins, who had heard of Harry being chosen as a second Hogwarts champion and openly voiced their displeasure. He was indifferent to their insults, already well versed in their hatred of him, but Ron, his best friend who refused to speak to him, was a different story.

Just as she readily believed him, Harry believed her about Mr. Carrow, not needing any additional proof, but while she could handle not discussing her 'conspiracy theories' with Alec, he was not prepared for most of the school to despise him for supposedly cheating Cedric out of his victory. With him and Ron on the outs, Hermione had the unfortunate duty of playing mediator, forcing them to talk even if it was not to each other.

"Rosie, you don't have to convince _me_." Dante held up his hands in self defense. "One, why would I care if he's in the tournament? Two, anyone with eyes can see he's scared out of his mind. If someone does want him dead, the adults aren't doing him any favors by making him compete."

Having classes end early for Maxime to spend time training Fleur for the upcoming task, he walked with Rosalie to Potions, meeting her outside the greenhouses. As they headed to the castle, she noticed several students wearing badges on their robes, moving too quickly for her to catch a glimpse of the words written on them.

"Why would Vivienne's father want him to compete?" she whispered, playing with a loose thread on her strap. "Do you think he used to be a…death eater? Mr. Weasley said they were the ones behind the attack at the World Cup."

Dante looked uneasy. "I know he's a decorated auror and he's next in line to head the department but appearances can be deceiving. After the war, Carrow pled his innocence, said he had been under the imperius curse and it broke when you know who was destroyed. Maybe the Dark Mark appearing in the sky scared him and he wants Harry ready on a silver platter."

Rosalie lowered her head into her hands. "I can't take this. Death eater or not, people have died in this tournament. Harry's not some super wizard. What if he—I need Dumbledore back." Dumbledore was still away on supposed Ministry business. "He'd have a way of proving I'm right."

"Don't let Cabot make you feel stupid," he said, hugging her shoulders. "If you say it was the she-devil's father, I believe you."

She was the last one to arrive in the dungeons, the Slytherins all grouped together and the Gryffindors split with Harry and Hermione separated from their peers. All of the Slytherins,  
except Lizzie, were wearing similar badges and as Rosalie got closer, the luminous message became visible.

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY—THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION

Pressing the badges into their chest, they changed the message to read POTTER STINKS in bright green letters. "Can they get more childish?" said Dante, as they howled with laughter. He grabbed the back of her robes. "Ignore them, Rosie. Don't give Malfoy the satisfaction of getting under your skin."

Rosalie could feel the anger radiating from Harry, being surrounded by the obnoxious badges. "Oh, _very_ funny," said Hermione, sarcastically. "Really _witty_."

"Want one, Granger?" asked Draco, holding out a badge. "I've got loads but don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see. Don't want a mudblood sliming it up."

People scrambled out of the way as Harry and Draco both retrieved their wands. The only reason it was not a three way duel was Dante holding onto Rosalie, who was a ticking time bomb.

"Go on then, Potter," challenged Draco. "Moody's not here to look after you now. Do it, if you've got the guts..."

Simultaneously shouting spells, the jets of light struck each other then ricocheted, hitting Goyle and Hermione. Harry's spell caused giant boils to sprout on Goyle's nose and Hermione whimpered, covering her mouth. No longer blending into the wall, Ron rushed forward in an effort to help her, dragging her hands away to reveal her teeth elongating past her chin. It made her resemble a bushy-haired beaver, Pansy and her clique dissolving into shrieky giggles.

Elbowing Dante in the chest, she broke free from his grip and chucked her Potions book at Draco's head. He froze it in mid air but was not prepared for her to jump on his back, violently pulling on his hair.

"Get off me, Dursley!" Raising his hands, he blindly grasped at her fingers. "Get—off—ow!"

"You think you're tough, you sniveling ferret?" she said, digging her nails into his neck. "Say you're sorry!"

He purposely backed into the wall, making her hit her head. "Guys, stop!" shouted Lizzie, as Dante attempted to get a clear shot. "Stop fighting! Rosie—"

Rosalie was lifted off him, forcibly spun around to look into Snape's cold eyes. The Slytherins clamored to spin their own versions of events, painting Draco as the victim and Rosalie and Harry as his savage attackers. He sent Goyle to the hospital wing but showed no consideration for Hermione, who ran out of the dungeons by herself. Harry and Ron were united for a brief moment in their hatred of the potions professor, their outburst earning them detention.

"You'll join them, Dursley. Be grateful that I am not deducting any points. Let this be a lesson to you," he said, lowering her to the floor. "Such barbaric behavior is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

"What about him?" asked Dante, pointing at Draco. He was covering his neck to hide the deep scratches. "He provoked them. Rosie was—"

"Mister Salvatore, I will remind you that you are a guest in this castle. Any punishments of my students will be decided by me," he said, softly. "I suggest you find your peers as I have a lesson to begin."

Rosalie refused to talk during the entire lesson. Lizzie's efforts proved futile, the only time she lifted her head being when Colin arrived to bring Harry to Ludo Bagman for a meeting with the champions. After the lesson, she found Dante waiting for her like a bodyguard.

"Dursley!" He kept her eyes forward, leading her to the dungeons entrance. "Dursley, I'm talking to you!"

Draco blocked the door. "What do you want?"

"What I really want is you out of this school." Theodore and Crabbe sniggered behind her. "But let's start with an apology. When Snape tells my father what you did, he'll make sure you and Potter are expelled. No one's falling for this little miss innocent, oh woe is me act. You can't help being a savage. It's what all muggles are, aren't they?"

"And you're a pathetic coward," she replied, stepping towards him. "You think you're so high and mighty but deep down, you're an insecure brat. You act like the victim and care so much about what other people think. If you didn't have that fancy pureblood name, would any of your so-called friends want to hang around you?"

His nostrils flared slightly. "Watch yourself, Dursley."

"Can't handle the truth?" Dante started to tell her to ignore him. "No, it's good for him to hear this. Unlike his braindead lackeys, I'm not going to fall at his feet and that's what scares him. People actually like me…they want me to be my friend and it's not because of a famous cousin or my last name. They like me for me. Without that name, you're nothing, Malfoy. You're a sad little boy whose daddy probably pays people to pretend that you're not."

"At least my father wants me around," he hissed.

Draco staggered backwards, clutching his cheek. Pushing past him, a teary-eyed Rosalie rushed out of the dungeons. She kept walking until her feet hurt, ending up near the Forbidden Forest.

"Lizzie, if that's you, I don't want to talk," she said, feeling someone approach her.

Celeste was standing behind her, an orange paste on her cheek. "Tripped on my hike. What's with the tears? You're not actually letting that piece of garbage get to you, are you?"

"Leave me alone," muttered Rosalie.

"No. I've been where you are, Rosie," she said, reaching for her hand. "His uncle used to say the same things to me because he was jealous, just like that smarmy ferret. He can't stand that you've got more power in your pinky than he could ever hope to achieve. I've heard them with that Slytherin prince nonsense. Well, you're better than that. You're a fucking queen, you hear me?"

Rosalie sniffled. "I don't get him. He was helping me on Halloween and then—"

"Screw him. Screw all of those spoiled snakes," replied Celeste. "They won't ever accept you. In their eyes, you'll always be lesser, no matter how much you show them up in lessons. All they'll see is your muggle blood. It's what they learned from their rotten parents. To your face, they might be polite but behind your back, they're saying you're worthless. If you get me out, I'll help you prove them wrong. That ferret will regret ever messing with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	7. Shrieking Shack Attack

In the aftermath of her fight with Draco, Rosalie kept her distance from the conceited Slytherin. It was mostly for her well-being, knowing that her patience was wearing thin and one more argument could lead her to harm not just Draco but anyone else around him. The second she laid a single scratch, Snape would strike to defend his favorite student and she preferred to avoid serving another detention of pickling rat brains, with the added bonus of being caught between the silently feuding Harry and Ron. Her self-imposed isolation meant that she would only be near him during lessons, where she had no choice. Outside the classroom, she spent most of her time with Harry and Hermione, falling asleep multiple times in Gryffindor tower to avoid late night run-ins with the royal jerk and his band of brainless lackeys.

The prospect of Harry competing in the Triwizard Tournament was terrifying but provided her with a distraction, for her and for him. He was not just contending with the upcoming first task, of which he had no details aside from it testing his courage, but the trashy journalism of Rita Skeeter.

A few weeks after his meeting with Ludo Bagman, an article was published in the Daily Prophet, exclusively about Harry and little to no mention of the other champions. Rita Skeeter, a ruthless reporter, had twisted his words or made them up, portraying Harry as a depressed teenage boy who cried over his parents every night and speculation on his friendship with Hermione. The article gave the Slytherins more ammunition for their bullying, joyfully quoting it to him in the halls or at meals. Hermione suffered her own insults at the hands of Pansy and her clique, though she continued to hold her head high.

Lizzie warned Rosalie not to speak to Rita Skeeter herself about the false reporting, calling her nothing more than a sordid gossip reporter. Her family had been on the receiving end of her lies in the past and she knew firsthand that standing up to her made that person her next victim.

When she was not keeping Harry from lashing out at his tormentors, which consisted of three-fourths of the school, she was working on finding the time prism. Unbeknownst to her roommates, her potion was brewing beneath her bed, growing closer to completion, but finding the prism was half the battle. Once the potion successfully located the prism, she needed to break through its defenses. Hearing of the first official trip to Hogsmeade, Celeste devised a plan.

"I'm not getting you another butterbeer. You're a big boy. You can do it yourself," Rosalie whispered to Harry. "I believe in you."

She was sitting in the Three Broomsticks with Harry and Hermione, her hardheaded cousin choosing to hide under his invisibility cloak. Even hidden away, she could sense him glancing over at a table where Ron, Fred, George, and Lee sat, drinking butterbeers.

"You don't want to see the Slytherins," he countered, petulantly. "Why won't you tell me what Malfoy said? If you won't sit near him, it must've been bad. Tell me and I'll handle it."

"Don't need you to because I can fight my own battles. Either suck it up and get your own drink or you can help me finish my packet so I can be done with this tutoring," she offered, holding up a thick packet. "If we can call it that…"

It was given to her by McGonagall at the end of her Transfiguration lesson. If she correctly answered each question, she would no longer be required to attending tutoring sessions with Alec. The problem was that the professors were under the impression their sessions had been constant and educational, not interrupted by a jealous sixth year with the urge to throw Rosalie off a cliff.

After Halloween, Vivienne amped up her efforts to have Alec to herself, interrupting their sessions before they began and pulling him away before she could greet him between classes. It was as if she had a secret tracker implanted under his skin. With Alec unable to teach her anything, she relied on Hermione, who proved to be a much better tutor. Rosalie did not have to worry about someone interfering with their studies in the library, unless she counted Viktor Krum staring at Hermione from a distance which she dismissed as a silly idea.

"I'm going to head back," she said, rising from the table. "I can't concentrate with all this noise. Hermione, good luck getting the turtle out of his shell and you, Mr. Turtle, stop being a baby and talk things out with your best friend. If I have to deal with this for one more day, I'll lock you two in a supply closet and whatever happens, happens."

Celeste appeared by the door, a waitress carrying a tray of butterbeers and a group of girls passing through her.

"Rosie," she heard, as she approached the door. Lizzie was waiting at the bar. "Where are you off to? I could come too."

"I have to work on this tutoring packet," replied Rosalie. "It's really boring so you should stay here."

Lizzie jumped in front of her. "I know Malfoy's a colossal jerk but you can't avoid him forever. Who cares if you're in the same room? Alec already said he'd give him a month's detention if he harassed you again."

Rosalie sighed. "I'm not avoiding him. I need…time. I don't want to do something stupid and end up getting in trouble. I'll see you later."

Leaving the Three Broomsticks, she followed Celeste down the street. It did not go unnoticed by her that many students were wearing Support Cedric Diggory badges. Celeste led her into Dervish and Banges, a shop filled with magical objects ranging from a mobile model of the galaxy to a lantern that produced everlasting light. Surrounded by his usual admirers, Cedric was speaking to a man behind the counter, showing him a cracked mirror. As he waved at her, she started to wave back until Celeste dragged her to the back of the shop.

"What are we looking for, exactly?" Rosalie whispered, pretending to examine a jar of invisible ink. "This stuff looks like it hasn't been touched in ages."

"Because it hasn't," said Celeste, scanning the dusty shelves. "The old badger who owns this place doesn't know the value of half the stuff he's got. He probably got them in a trade or passed down through generations. Any Hogwarts student will want the fancy stuff like sneakoscopes or smart quills. Gotcha. Top shelf, next to the crystal ball."

Standing on her tiptoes, Rosalie reached into that same spot, holding a piece of knotted rope. Despite its ordinary appearance, it was apparently capable of powerful magic. Celeste explained that once Rosalie poured a vial of the potion over the rope and combined it with Celeste's magic, it would create a link between them that would sever when she unraveled the knot. Since Celeste's magic was tied to the prism, it would presumably be enough to break through the prism's enchantments.

"Dursley."

Whipping her head around, she held up her wand, pointing it at Draco's chest. "You really are a glutton for punishment. Is this a turn on for you? Getting yelled at by a girl?"

"I'm not here to fight. I want to talk to you," he said, calmly. "Why don't we step outside? Or if you like, I could go back to the Three Broomsticks and tell Lizzie that you lied about doing homework."

"Rosie, are you okay?" Cedric walked over to them, eyeing Draco with distrust. "Is he bothering you?"

Draco scoffed. "Don't recall inviting you into the conversation, Diggory. Shouldn't you be with your fans?" His admirers were still by the counter, now throwing dirty looks at Rosalie. "We're talking about a Potions assignment. Take a walk."

"Actually, we're done talking so I'll walk away," replied Rosalie, feeling something fall into her bag. She placed the jar of invisible ink back on the shelf. "Lots of work to do."

Her hope for privacy did not last long, hearing Draco call her name as she left the shop. With a sharp tug of her arm, he pulled her into the alley between Dervish and Banges and Zonko's. She wished that Celeste could hex him herself or at least throw a trash bin.

"You're maddening, you know that?" he hissed. "You can't let anyone talk when they're—hear me out. I can count the number of times I've done this on one hand so cherish it."

He muttered to himself. "What?" she asked, shaking herself out of his grasp.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, all right?" he repeated, raising his voice. She blinked, thinking she misheard him. "Lizzie didn't put me up to this. She _did_ chew me out every time she saw me but I'm not doing this because she told me to…and to get her off my back. I shouldn't have said what I said about your father."

She kept her wand against his chest. "Are you drunk or do you think I'm that stupid to fall for your bullshit?"

"I know you're not stupid," he said, pushing her wand aside. "You were right. I do care what people think of me. My friends, my family, complete strangers…I care so much that I can't be honest with my feelings. You were right that you're not like most people, just agreeing with me or doing what I want to appease my parents or because you think it's expected of you. I like that you speak your mind, that you'll try to fight someone twice your size even if they could throw you across the quidditch pitch with one hand. I like _you_ , Rosalie."

It was the first time he used her actual name, not Dursley, mudblood, or another insult. She was torn between believing him and thinking it was a trap. For all she knew, he had practiced this same speech in the mirror to lull her into a false sense of security, ending with Pansy dumping a bucket of paint on her.

He anxiously pushed back his hair. "I've liked you since we met at the World Cup and then I heard you and Potter in the Top Box. I should hate everything about you…that you're related to Potter, that you're a muggleborn…but I can't and it drives me mad. I've been putting up this front so no one would know the truth and I thought I could pull it off. I don't want to keep up this act but maybe there's a way around it. Everyone else will think we can barely stand each other but we could meet somewhere private like the Astronomy Tower or—"

"The library," suggested Rosalie. "We could be like secret friends."

"Exactly," he agreed. "We'd set up a time to meet and—you're being sarcastic, aren't you?"

Rosalie stuffed her wand in her jeans pocket. "What do you think? You honestly expect me to scurry around the castle because you're too much of a chicken to tell your Slytherin sycophants that you want to be friends with me? I'm not lowering myself to soothe your ego. Despite what you've probably thought your whole life, the world doesn't revolve around you and your needs. When you sort out your oh so conflicted feelings, come find me."

As she left the alley, she saw men walking up and down the street, placing posters on the windows and doors of shops. The men wore the same patches on their robes as Mr. Carrow, signifying that they were aurors. On the same day as Rita Skeeter's article, there was news that was far more pressing than Harry's 'tragic' life story.

Attacks on muggles, robberies, and kidnappings had been kept quiet by the aurors, the attacks starting a week after the World Cup. The one common thread was a symbol left at the crime scenes: a dark mark burned into the wall. Though the article speculated it was death eaters, those who had gotten away during the war, Fudge downplayed the attacks as misguided pranks by people wanting to disrupt the peace. Glimpsing one of the posters outside Honeyduke's, she read that the aurors were insisting on a curfew of five o'clock for Hogwarts students and villagers and to report any suspicious activity.

She climbed up a slope past the Three Broomsticks, to the abandoned house at the very top. Harry had told her about the supposedly haunted house, the Shrieking Shack, in a letter, how it was rumored to be the most haunted building in Britain and the villagers used to hear screams at night. The truth was that the screams were from Lupin, the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and a werewolf, who transformed there on a full moon but with its boarded up doors and windows and overall sinister appearance, no one dared to venture inside the house.

"Bombarda," she said, making a jabbing motion with her wand.

The front door blew off its hinges. Entering the grimy shack, she lit the tip of her wand to guide her and Celeste down the shadowy hallway, paper peeling off the stained walls and broken bits of furniture scattered around the floor.

"Wait, I never took the rope. Stupid Malfoy—" Celeste lifted the rope from inside her bag. "But I didn't pay for it!"

She plopped down in an armchair, stuffing pouring out of the seat. "Relax, goody-goody. He won't notice it's missing. We can always put it back when we're done. Ready for some big girl magic?"

"I still don't understand how this is going to work. You don't have magic," pointed out Rosalie, taking out a vial of the tracking potion.

"My magic is tied to the prism's," explained Celeste. "If you can make our connection stronger, I'll be able to imbue some of it into the rope when I can physically touch it. Linking is the easy part. Untying the knot is going to require some serious effort. It might be too much for a fourth year but I think you can manage it."

"Hasn't Professor Snape told you it isn't safe to be wandering alone?" asked a deep, familiar voice.

Mr. Carrow was in the doorway, most of him a shadowed silhouette except for his chilling eyes. How had she not heard him apparate into or around the Shrieking Shack? Rosalie swallowed hard, wondering how long he had been following her. She was not close enough to the village to cry out for help and if she sent out sparks with her wand, who would see them?

"Surely you've heard of the recent attacks. A muggleborn like yourself is a prime target," he said, his concern sounding insincere. "Yet here you are, alone in a building that no one has had the courage to set foot in for decades. Perhaps that's why you're in Slytherin, hmm? You remember me, don't you, little one? Our first meeting wasn't on Halloween, was it?"

Rosalie remained silent, too frightened to move from the armchair. Celeste had vanished, leaving her alone with her attacker. Her eyes darted around the room for the best possible weapon.

Stepping into the room, he surveyed her with interest. "I'm not going to hurt you. As I told you before, I'd like to help you. That's what an auror does, you see…helps those in need and you are certainly in need of my help."

"I—I don't w—want anything from you," she stammered, her heart racing like a hummingbird's.

"Or do you not realize that you need it?" he retorted, wiping dust from a partially collapsed wooden table. "You're new to this world, young and naive. Everything you know comes from someone else…your cousin, no doubt, and that is where you get your blind faith in those who wish to keep you caged. You can't see what's right in front of you, my dear."

"A psychopath?" He chuckled at her bold response. "Lizzie's meeting me here so unless you want her to tell her uncle what you really are, you better leave."

"Your heart skips a beat when you lie. For such an accomplished legilimens, you haven't mastered masking it," he said, casually. "Oh yes, I know all about your gifts. I've been keeping an eye on you, Rosalie. Hogwarts is an illusion. Dumbledore doesn't reward excellence, you see. He'd prefer all of his students to be squished in the same box of mediocrity and you deserve much better. Your potential is being wasted all so he can keep you prisoner."

"Dumbledore is keeping me safe," she argued. "He brought me here so I wouldn't hurt anyone back home."

"Is that what you think? You're sorely mistaken." Rosalie reached for the end table behind her. "If he knew of your magic all these years, why wait until now to bring you here? He could have easily swayed your parents. You see, you are his caged little bird…a pawn in his game of chess. Dumbledore does not care for you."

The floral vase, the one she had thrown with all her might, froze inches from his face. In two swift moves, he knocked it to the floor and pinned her arms to her side. Mr. Carrow circled her like a wild animal. She recoiled as his fingers brushed against her cheek.

"My colleagues may wish to ignore the signs but I haven't." He tilted up her chin. "The Dark Lord's return is imminent and you would thrive under his care. He would be a much better friend to have, little one. He would allow you the freedom to explore your gifts instead of stifling them out of fear. If Dumbledore does not care enough for you, what about those you love? Would he protect them?"

As he waved his wand, Harry slid across the wooden floor, his arms tied with thick, black cords. "Let him go or I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?" he challenged, lifting a struggling Harry up by his collar. "There she is. The rage, the power…and yet Dumbledore and your professors trick you into thinking you're no better than your peers, that you're nothing special. They'll clap as you make a boil cure potion or transfigure a bird into a goblet and all the while, you're burning on the inside, itching for more. You know it's true, that you'll rot away under his watch."

"Rosie, don't listen to him," spluttered Harry. "You need to run. Go—"

Mr. Carrow grimaced, his grip weakening as blood seeped from his nose. "Now, now," he said, holding his wand at Harry's throat. "That's a dangerous game to play. You could go too far and then I might accidentally cut him open. You wouldn't want that."

"Let him go," she said, clenching her fists.

"I will gladly free him…when you agree to come with me," he replied, his wand tip glowing green. "Or shall I finish what the Dark Lord failed to do? Is he lucky enough to survive two killing curses?"

"Don't touch him!" The candles on the mantle lit up simultaneously and an invisible wind blew past her. "Stop it!"

Harry groaned at the wand pressing into his throat. "Either you come with me or Rita Skeeter's next front page article will be about the death of Harry P—"

"LET HIM GO!"

A bomb-like blast echoed through the room, knocking Rosalie off her feet. Flat on her back and panting, she was looking up at the cloudy grey sky, not the rickety ceiling. Unable to stand, she twisted onto her side to get a better look at her surroundings, or what was left of them. Like she had done in the woods near Smelting's, the Shrieking Shack was essentially a pile of rubble. Rosalie searched for any sign of Mr. Carrow but he was gone, having likely apparated from the wreckage. Harry was lying unconscious on the floor, the cords no longer binding his wrists.

With a series of popping sounds, Dumbledore and a dozen aurors circled them. She could barely hear their bombarding questions, her mind still on the words of the former death eater. Somehow, she ended up in the hospital wing, on a bed next to Harry.

"You're lucky it's only minor scratches," said Madam Pomfrey, pouring a purplish potion onto a spoon. She jammed the spoon into Rosalie's mouth. "I dread to think what could've happened if you didn't arrive when you did, headmaster."

"Good fortune smiled down on them both, it seems. Poppy, I'll need to question Rosalie to assist the aurors in their search. Could you give us a minute?" Pomfrey strode into her office. "I know you are not in the best condition, Rosalie, but any detail, no matter how small, can help us find the culprit."

"Declan Carrow," she answered. "H—he's the one who cornered me at the World Cup."

Rosalie spilled her guts, without hesitation, though she altered a couple details. When Dumbledore asked how she and Harry ended up at the Shrieking Shack, she lied that Mr. Carrow brought them to the haunted building to avoid witnesses. In regards to the wreckage, she blamed it on a duel and that he destroyed the building to aid his escape.

"Did he mention a reason for choosing you?" he asked, seeming to be in deep thought.

"He talked about Voldemort." She waited for him to stiffen at the name but he looked at her, expectantly. "He said people were ignoring the signs…that he was coming back. Are they going to arrest him?"

"I'm afraid it isn't that simple," he said, solemnly. "The aurors will not take you at your word nor will they accept your memories of the event. Declan Carrow has spent decades crafting the facade of a courageous auror who stands against the dark arts. It will take much more to convince his fellow aurors and the wizarding world at large of his true nature but as long as you are within these walls, you are safe."

"But he got to us with no problem. He—" She glanced at Harry. "What if he comes back? He could say he's on patrol for Sirius Black or some other criminal."

"I will take care of that," he assured her. "Right now, I want you to clear your mind and put this incident behind you. Get your rest, Rosalie."

The moment Harry woke and they were given one last checkup by Madam Pomfrey, the attentive nurse displeased by his impatience, he forced her up to the Gryffindor common room. As always, news of their encounter with Carrow, though no one knew his identity and settled for calling him one of those maniacs from the Daily Prophet, had reached the castle in a short time, overhearing the aurors as they searched the village or hearing the explosion themselves. Feigning amnesia, Harry managed to get them away from the curious crowd and brought her to his dormitory.

"Stop making that face at me, Rosie. You can do your work in here," he said, digging through his trunk. "And then you're coming with me to see Hagrid. That's final."

Lying on his bed, she rolled onto her stomach. "Madam Pomfrey said I'm fine."

Hiding his invisibility cloak under his pillow, he turned towards her. "You're not _fine_. We both nearly got killed by Carrow's father and you blew up the Shrieking Shack!"

"I didn't—" She lowered her voice. "I didn't blow it up."

"Oh, sorry. Is it better to say you did some redecorating?" he asked, sarcastically. "We could get you an article in _Witch Weekly_. How to reduce your house from two floors to one and brighten the room by taking out the ceiling. How did you—I don't—you didn't see what happened. You were a literal bomb. Where did that come from?"

She shrugged, unsure of how to explain it to him. "I didn't do it on purpose." He joined her on the bed. "I was worried that he was going to hurt you and then…boom. Technically, I saved your life."

"I don't care about that, not if it could've cost you yours," he said, concerned. "We should talk to Sirius about it tonight. He might know what caused it."

Rosalie spent the rest of the day in his room, playing wizard's chess and various card games. Celeste briefly appeared, urging her to finish the linking spell, but seeing her cousin in such a alarmed state, she decided to forget about the prism for one night. At half past eleven, they sneaked out of the room under the invisibility cloak, past a handful of students including the Creevey brothers who were attempting to alter the Slytherin badges to say _SUPPORT HARRY POTTER_. With Hermione's help, they exited the common room and set off for Hagrid's cabin.

They passed the Beauxbatons carriage where Julian and Dante stood, Dante lighting a cigarette with the tip of his wand. "Maxime does not approve of zat 'abit," said Julian, with his thick French accent. "You heard ze auror. He told us—"

"I heard that dolt. I'm not deaf," glowered Dante. "If he was half as competent as the ones at MACUSA, he'd be arresting the culprit by now. I'm waiting for my father to answer my letter."

"What if your friend does not wish to leave?" asked Julian, frowning. "Is she not well-protected at 'ogwarts?"

Dante crushed the cigarette with his heel. "The further away she is, the better, believe me."

Harry nudged her forward, pushing her towards the cabin. Her thoughts of what Dante was planning and if it involved her halted as Hagrid opened the door. He looked significantly groomed, his hair combed, an oversized flower tucked into his shirt pocket, and a heavy scent of cologne wafting from his clothes. The reason for his sudden makeover became clear when he brought them back to the Beauxbatons carriage, Dante abandoning his low whispers to goggle at him. Inclining his head to the two boys, he knocked on the carriage door and Maxime, wearing a silk shawl, stepped out with a smile.

"Is this a date?" Rosalie whispered to a baffled Harry, following the two enormous adults to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Does he want help?"

"I've no idea," muttered Harry. "Let's keep going. We need to make it back in time for Sirius."

They had to move at a jogging pace to keep up with their midnight stroll. Just as the lake faded out of sight, Rosalie heard loud shouts and deafening roars. The source was at least thirty men failing to control four fully grown, vicious dragons inside a fenced enclosure. All different colors and sizes, the dragons shot torrents of fire fifty feet into the air and fighting against the chains clamped around their legs and necks. The men switched tactics, shooting stunning spells at the deadly creatures.

Breaking away from the group, Charlie greeted Hagrid and pointed to each dragon, as Maxime moved for a closer look. They spoke about the upcoming task, revealed to be getting past one of the dragons, the most dangerous being the Hungarian Horntail. As the conversation turned to Harry himself, Charlie imitating his mother to convey her concern after reading Rita Skeeter's article, Rosalie felt a tug on her elbow. A ghostly pale Harry said nothing as they returned to the castle, almost crashing into Karkaroff.

The common room was empty, the Creevey brothers abandoning the badges that now read _POTTER REALLY STINKS_. Pulling off the invisibility cloak, he threw himself into an armchair. Rosalie was about to speak when she saw Sirius's head in the fireplace, like Mr. Diggory had done to alert Mr. Weasley about the attack at Moody's home. He was not the skeletal man with long, stringy hair that Harry had described his first day back from his third year. Tidied up, with his hair short and clean, he was admittedly very handsome.

"You must be Rosalie," he said, smiling. "It's good to put a face to the name. How're you both doing?"

Harry talked himself hoarse catching Sirius up on all he had missed since they were last face to face, including the tournament, Rita Skeeter's article, most of the school and Ron shunning him, and the dragons. He was clueless on how to handle a dragon, the scenario not covered in any of their courses.

"Rosie thinks Carrow put my name in the goblet," said Harry, kneeling beside the fireplace. "He tried to attack her at the World Cup when we all got separated and then he attacked us again today at the Shrieking Shack."

Sirius, who had been listening in silence, nodded. "I heard about that. It's all over the Daily Prophet and the radio though Fudge tried to keep it quiet. He was willing to paint these incidents as some sick joke but now that you were involved, Harry, it's not something he can sweep under the rug. The aurors didn't find any clues yet. Last I read, they were searching for what caused the destruction. Powerful magic would usually leave a trace."

Rosalie and Harry shared a subtle glance. "It was Rosie." Sirius was visibly shocked. "We don't know how but Carrow was threatening to kill me and then everything started shaking and—well, you know the rest. Carrow was there to snatch her, Sirius. He was talking about Voldemort coming back."

"Declan's always been a shifty one," said Sirius, darkly. "He knows how to play a crowd. It's why the rumors of him being involved with the death eaters were dismissed so quickly. He's a clever man. If he's reading between the lines like I've been, he'll want to protect himself and his family. He must not have been expecting Rosalie to react that way and it scared him off. Did he say anything to you before he brought Harry into the room?"

"No," she lied. "He didn't say why he wanted me. What if his daughter's working with him?"

"I doubt he'd involve his teenage daughter but he's definitely not alone," replied Sirius. "You'll need to be careful around the Slytherins. I'm sure you've seen how close those pureblood families are and if he's getting paranoid, he won't be the only one. The Cabots and Carrows are thick as thieves. I read that Lorenzo Salvatore's son was attending Beauxbatons. Keep an eye on him too."

"Dante's my friend," she argued, Harry rolling his eyes. "He'd never hurt me."

Sirius did not look convinced. "When I was in Azkaban, the guards used to leave their newspapers when they were done with patrol. It was how I kept up with current events. His son's had his fair share of issues. When Lorenzo was running for president of MACUSA years ago, his critics claimed that he had his son committed to an asylum for treatment. The rumor was he harmed the staff at his manor. It's better to be cautious, Rosalie."

Aside from the Slytherin parents, he suspected Karkaroff of assisting Mr. Carrow. A former death eater, he was released from Azkaban for unknown reasons but many were wary of his change of heart. Sirius believed that Dumbledore hired Moody to keep an eye on Karkaroff and Bertha Jorkin's disappearance was potentially linked to Voldemort, who could have ordered Karkaroff to enter Harry into the tournament.

Before Sirius could give him any advice on battling dragons, he disappeared from the fireplace at the sound of footsteps. Ron descended down the spiral staircase, resulting in a heated argument between him and Harry.

Ron's face reddened in anger. "Should've realized you didn't want to be disturbed. I'll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace."

"Harry!" shouted Rosalie, as he chucked a badge at Ron's forehead.

"There you go," he snarled. "Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky…that's what you want, isn't it? Come on, Rosie."

"He didn't mean that," she told a fuming Ron, as he stomped up the staircase. "He's stressed about the first task and almost dying didn't help much."

"Are you okay?" asked Ron, his expression softening. "McGonagall was livid. I heard her yelling at the assistants, Kendra, and Jacob for not taking Hermione seriously when she went to them about him missing."

"Physically, yeah. Mentally, still a little shook up," she admitted. "Listen, I get how you're feeling. Between us, whenever he would come back from Hogwarts for the summer, I'd love to hear his stories about this place but I was also jealous. Part of me thought he liked rubbing it in my face but that's not true. I realized he didn't ask to be a wizard with these amazing abilities or the fame he was thrust into…he would've gladly traded places to be like everyone else. I can't make you talk it out but I know you miss each other."

The day of the first task, Rosalie skipped lunch to sit in the library. She had told Lizzie that she was searching for last minute spells to help Harry but he already had a set plan. Working with him and Hermione, the three of them had spent most of their time in the library, searching for a potential solution but the books proved useless. After telling Cedric about the dragons, wanting all of the champions to be on fair footing, Harry was caught by Moody, who did not punish him but advised him to play to his strengths. His plan was to cast a summoning spell on his Firebolt and fly past the dragon, knowing he was a talented flier. He practiced the spell with Rosalie and Hermione until two o'clock in the morning, summoning books and quills.

The library was emptier than usual, thanks to everyone's excitement over the first task. With Madam Pince busy organizing her office, Rosalie sat at a table in the back corner with the tangled rope and Celeste. She had poured the tracking potion on it while Lizzie and the other Slytherin girls were asleep.

"Be gentle," joked Celeste, holding out her hand. Taking out the knife from her potions kit, Rosalie delicately cut her palm. "Now or never."

Several drops of blood fell from her open wound, creating a golden glow around the rope. Rosalie balanced the rope in her hands, listening to Celeste's instructions.

"Reach into the magic deep inside you. Channel how you felt that day at the Shrieking Shack," said Celeste. The rope showed no change. "You've got this, Rosie. Tap into that anger. Think of how my father was going to kill Harry. He would have done it without a second thought. It didn't matter to him that he's a fourteen year old boy. All he wanted to do was hurt you."

The shelves behind her shook violently. "Celeste, this is a bad idea. I can't—"

"Yes, you can." She squeezed Rosalie's shoulders. "You're stronger than you know. Focus."

As the lights above her flickered, the ropes rose into the air. She jumped as the books from multiple shelves fell to the floor with a clutter. The rope floated back down to the table, the knot undone.

"Told you, princess." Celeste turned her head. "Someone's coming."

Rosalie hid the untangled rope in her bag and fixed the shelves. Grabbing the nearest book on the table, she pretended to be immersed in its pages.

"Funny, I thought you were helping Potter but he's in the Great Hall, barely keeping his toast down." Draco was across from her, clutching an apple. "If you said that to get away from Lizzie and her sad attempts at getting Blaise's attention, I don't blame you."

"He said he already had his plan but there's nothing wrong with a Plan B," she said, convincingly. He sat down at the table. "Didn't ask you to join me but you're a terrible listener. I remember telling you to stop bothering me."

"Right, in Hogsmeade…before you got attacked," he replied. "But you don't remember any of that, at least according to Potter. I think that's a load of dung, by the way. I think your memory's intact and for some reason, you won't talk about it, no matter how much Cabot needles you. It was Lizzie, wasn't it? She finally snapped."

She kept her eyes on the chapter about memory spells. "Sorry to disappoint you but if you wanted the gory details, you won't get them from me. Why are you still in that chair?"

"Because I know you're lying. Your nose twitches when you get tense. It's like a rabbit," he said, amused. "You're tense because you don't want to relive that day. I might not know who attacked you but I do know one thing. You were already on the way to the Shrieking Shack. I saw you headed that way after our talk. Cabot said you told Dumbledore your attacker brought you and Potter there."

"Whatever conspiracy is mulling around that twisted brain of yours, it's wrong." She snapped the book shut. "I wasn't anywhere near the Shrieking Shack. After you forced me to be within sniffing distance of you, I went back to the castle and then my mind's blank. Why don't you leave the sleuthing to the aurors?"

"Here you are." Dante entered the library. "The first task's starting soon. Don't you want a good seat? Preferably away from this idiot…"

A massive crowd was hurrying out of the castle, to the same spot where she and Harry had seen the dragons. Stands and a large white tent had been erected around one of the fenced enclosures. As they waited to join the hundreds of students already in the stands, she was blinded by a sudden flash. A woman with rigid blonde curls and jeweled spectacles was standing by the wooden stairs, next to a paunchy man holding a camera. An acid-green quill hovered over her crocodile skin handbag.

"Rosalie, isn't it? How lovely to meet you," she said, her scarlet-taloned hand seizing Rosalie's. "Rita Skeeter but you knew that already, didn't you? My work _does_ precede me. I've been hoping to catch you. My, my, such a beauty. Could we have a quick chat? Some encouraging words about your dear cousin or your own account of what happened to the two of you in Hogsmeade the other day?"

"Shouldn't you be interviewing the champions? That sounds much more interesting," said Draco, surprisingly coming to her rescue.

Her quill tickled the bottom of his chin. "Getting as handsome as your father, young Malfoy. No need to worry about your friend. I'd simply like a few words is all."

"I've got words for you," offered Dante, separating them. He glared at the photographer, who had been eyeing her. "Shove off or you'll be lucky to get published on the back of a napkin."

"We'll talk soon, darling," the gossip told Rosalie with a smile, beckoning the photographer to follow her to the tent.

Before she followed Dante up the stairs, she looked back at Draco. "Thanks," she mouthed.

Dante led her down a row, where the Beauxbatons students were holding a banner for Fleur. Rosalie's stomach did flips, knowing what was about to come and dreading the worst. In the row in front of her, Adrian was holding the wooden chest he used to place bets on her and Draco's fight at the quidditch pitch. This time, he was taking bets on the champions, from who would score the most points to who would survive the task.

"He'll be fine," said Dante, her nerves on full display. "He might barely pass but he'll live. I wanted to talk to you about something. The holidays are coming soon and seeing your family is a bit iffy. I thought you could come with me to Manhattan."

"Really?" she asked, tearing her gaze away from the jagged terrain of the enclosure.

"For like a week. We have plenty of rooms at the manor and it would make Emilia happy." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I could show you around Ilvermorny too. You'd love it. Not to brag but you might find it's better than Hogwarts."

"Why would she want that?" Alec was on the other side of Rosalie. "What are you playing at, Salvatore?"

" _Someone_ has to think of her safety. Last I checked, you were busy shoving your tongue down Vivienne's throat while she was attacked by some psycho," he replied, purposely provoking him. "Glad to see your priorities are as straight as ever, Cabot."

"Guys," started Rosalie.

A low chuckle escaped Alec's lips. "Couldn't wait to play that card, could you? You're getting predictable, Salvatore. I don't remember you saving the day. Where were you? Oh that's right, kissing Laurent's ass. Careful or Barnes will get jealous…unless there's trouble in paradise."

"Stop it, both of you," she said, keeping them apart. "Can you not go five minutes without going at it? I'm here to cheer on Harry and hope he doesn't die. I don't need you two—"

In her struggle to end their fighting, her hand slipped against the inside of Dante's coat. She winced as she brushed against something smooth and round, a pain like a bee sting traveling up her arm. Shoving her way past Alec, she moved to one of the lower rows where Lizzie was standing with the other fourth year Slytherins and waving a tiny flag bearing the Hogwarts crest.

As Bagman spoke to the crowd, in a separate set of stands for the judges, Rosalie still felt that stinging pain. She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a blackened bruise on the inside of her wrist. The bruise somehow traveled lower, separating into five smaller dots that disappeared into her fingertips.

"Rosie, wasn't that amazing?!"

Lizzie's screams made her jump in her seat. All around her, people were doing the same, cheering Harry's name and clapping wildly. In the center of the enclosure stood an out of breath Harry, a deep gash visible on his shoulder, his robes partially torn, and holding his Firebolt in one hand a golden egg in the other.

"Pity it didn't eat him," Theodore muttered to Draco.

"Come on, I bet you want to congratulate him," said Lizzie, inching down the row. "That was insane. I can't believe Krum didn't think of it."

How had she not missed the first task? Lifting her hands from the wooden railing, that she could not remember grabbing, she noticed tiny burn marks in place of her fingers.

"Any day now, princess," she heard. To her left was a thin, dark-haired boy, no older than ten years old, who looked very similar to Dante. "If we don't hurry, they'll get the best ice cream first. You know they never play fair."

"Dursley." Adrian snapped his fingers, taking the little boy's place. "You all right in there?"

"I don't know," she whispered to herself, before following the Slytherins out of the stands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	8. Into the Prism

Rosalie was going insane, at least in her amateur opinion. How else could she explain the loss of time? In the weeks since the first task, she lost count of how often she was in the middle of a lesson, practicing spells or brewing a potion, and in a split second, she would be walking beside Lizzie to their next class or sitting in the Great Hall, halfway through a meal. Unable to find what triggered the phenomenon, she thought of asking Celeste, who had a vast knowledge of magic, but she had not seen her ghostly companion since casting the unlinking spell.

On top of the random blackouts, her dreams, which had been relatively tame, had grown increasingly strange. She found herself in Hogwarts, though there was something slightly off about its appearance, with a younger Dante and other children, some the same age as her. With each new dream, McGonagall and Dumbledore popping up once, they began to feel more like a memory though Dante shot down her theory, denying that they had met before London when she sprung the question on him at dinner. She wanted to believe him at his word but Sirius's warning and his sudden offer of joining him in New York gave her pause.

The idea of probing his mind had been tempting yet it was too difficult to get a moment alone, with Alec and Lizzie leading the 'I hate Dante' fan club. Just as Lizzie started to warm up to him, hearing that he planned to transfer her to Ilvermorny with him, Alec's twisted version of events, reverted her back to insulting him at every opportunity.

"Miss Parkinson, quiet, please," said McGonagall, locking the last remaining guinea fowl/guinea pig hybrid in a steel cage. "I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching. It is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and a chance to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open to fourth years and above although you may invite a younger student if you wish. I highly suggest that you consider a partner who is…age-appropriate."

Her eyes were on Alec, who was leaning against a corner desk, as she spoke, as if intending the warning for him more than the fourth years. At the mention of the ball, Pansy and Daphne quietly giggled, sneaking glances at an uninterested Draco and Blaise. Resting her hand against her chin, Rosalie heard Lizzie mutter about hexing Daphne to lose her strawberry blonde locks if she dared to ask Blaise as her date.

McGonagall was strict as ever, not even a school dance loosening her rigid demeanor. She looked around at each one of them, emphasizing the importance of being on their best behavior and not embarrassing Hogwarts in front of the other schools. As the bell rang, she called Rosalie over to her desk, her eyes only narrowing a fraction of an inch before Lizzie left her side.

"Are you feeling all right, Miss Dursley?" she asked, arching her brow. "You seemed rather distracted today. If you'd like to speak in my office, I can write a note to explain to Professor Sprout why you are late. Professor Snape is not the most delicate of souls when it comes to conversation but I find talking about a traumatic experience can help with the healing process. What you went through in Hogsmeade was—"

"Forever ago," interrupted Rosalie. "I'm ready to move on. Professor Dumbledore said it wouldn't happen again and I trust him. Is that all?"

"I suppose so," said McGonagall, looking like she wanted to say more. "If something is ever troubling you, my door is always open."

If she was not afraid of the response, Rosalie would be venting to the stern professor. She doubted that McGonagall would believe her and if she did, she would blame her paranoia on a lack of sleep. Managing a thin smile, she left the classroom, where Alec was waiting for her and appeared to be in deep thought. Lizzie had hurried to the Great Hall to spy on Daphne.

"What was that about?" he asked, as Rosalie slung her bag over her shoulder.

"Nothing. She uh wants me to help Harry find a date for the Yule Ball." It was not a complete lie, Harry being hopeless when talking to a girl he liked, Cho being a prime example. "Champions can't go solo. Are you going to bring someone? Pretty sure McGonagall put a pin in you taking Vivienne."

"I wasn't planning on it," he said, stiffly.

As they walked down the staircase, she felt as if she was being viewed under a microscope. The usual boys who offered to carry her books or greeted her in the corridors looked like they had swallowed poison. Some were about to approach her until they spotted Alec beside her, his combined height and muscle making him resemble an imposing bodyguard.

"I know Lizzie's hoping Blaise will get his head out of his own ass to ask her. What about you?" There was a slight hesitation in his voice. "Do you have someone in mind or is Potter going to make you be his date?"

"Well, I was going to talk to Dumbledore about letting me go to Smelting's again," she confessed. "The upper years stay until Christmas for a winter dance. I used to help with the decorations but I never got to go because Dudley would write to my father about someone trying to ask me and he'd make up some dumb excuse about needing me home. This would've been the first time I could properly go."

"Rose," he started.

Rosalie avoided his gaze, waiting for the impending lecture. "I know last time was a kind of a disaster. I wasn't going to _convince_ him again. It's just that my friends and I have been waiting for this since we got to Smelting's. The ball's a lot of fun. At the end, they crown an ice prince and princess by counting ballots and you get flowers and this cute tiara. Don't laugh." She pushed against his shoulder, seeing a hint of a smile. "It's a huge deal. Last year, there was a rumor that I won by a write-in campaign but technically, I wasn't eligible so they gave it to Chloe Miller. She dances like a drunken elephant."

"I'll take your word for it but you know he won't say yes." Pouting, she hopped over a vanishing step. "Especially not after the Shrieking Shack. The aurors still haven't caught whoever did it and Dumbledore wouldn't put you at risk. Missing out on a tiara is a small price to pay for your safety. You can have plenty of fun at this ball too."

"Hey Rosie!"

A broad-shouldered, curly-haired boy walked down the staircase. Rosalie had seen him around the castle, typically in the Gryffindor common room. From what she could recall, he was a year above her, he and his friends frequently engaging in reckless dares that ended with one of them visiting the hospital wing. His friends watching them from afar, whispering amongst themselves, was a familiar scene from her days at Smelting's.

"I'm Cormac McLaggen," he said, with an air of confidence.

"Hi…" she replied, uncertainly.

"Could I talk to you in private?" Alec peered down at him like an insignificant bug. "Or not, doesn't matter. Do you want to go to the ball with me?"

Her mind blanked at his blunt question. She had anticipated being asked but not by a boy she never had a proper conversation with, let alone someone as smug as Cormac. As she struggled to form a coherent answer, she was taken aback by a pair of arms wrapping around her waist and a peck on the cheek. Recognizing Dante's silver ring, bearing his family's crest, she glanced back at him for an explanation.

"Sorry to disappoint you but she's already got a date," Cormac was not deterred, Dante's relationship with Bryce well-known and documented in teen magazines. "I was going to take my boyfriend but he's going to be in Tokyo for a charity concert and who am I to steal him away from those poor sick children? I asked Rosie this morning."

"He did," said Rosalie, playing along.

"Plenty of girls to ask. You should get a move on or they'll all be taken," he suggested to a disgruntled Cormac.

Rosalie quietly thanked him as Cormac and his friends descended down the stairs and into the Great Hall. "If I learned anything from all these years with Bryce, it's that matching is important. He'll apparate all the way from Japan to yell at me for messing that up in the pictures."

Alec scoffed. "Good joke, Salvatore. You can drop the act now that McLaggen's gone." He could almost see the gears turning in her head. "You're not actually going with him, are you? A toad would be a better date."

"It's not a bad idea. If I go with anyone else, Harry will be stalking us all night," she said, knowing it was exactly how Dudley behaved at any dance or party. "He knows Dante's taken so he wouldn't have to worry about him getting handsy. I mean, he's turned into my brother, which is scary, but he wouldn't blow a gasket over it."

Choosing Dante as her date provided more benefits than saving Harry from a Christmas Day heart attack. It provided her an excuse to politely turn down any boys hoping to take her to the Yule Ball, without having to come up with a convincing lie. She had not expected so many invitations, from all three schools, feeling like she was being asked wherever she turned and leaving her with little privacy. The many requests had drawn the ire of not just a protective Harry but envious girls. Her one place of safety was the Slytherin common room, none of the Slytherins willing to put aside their hatred of muggles to consider asking her.

Having already found her date, it gave her plenty of time to play matchmaker. She was unsure how her friends functioned before knowing her, some like Harry and Lizzie too paralyzed with fear to act on their crushes. Ron proved to be a hapless case himself when he shouted at Fleur across the entrance hall while she was conversing with Rosalie, Cedric, and Dante, asking her to the ball and running before anyone could make sense of the odd encounter. With Rosalie's much needed help, he and Harry, moping over Cho's rejection, managed to get dates with the Patil twins.

"Stop doing that. It's a dance, not a wedding," said Rosalie, lifting Lizzie's nails from her wrist. Tiny indents were visible under the charm bracelet Rosalie had given her for Christmas. "Blaise wants to go with you. If he didn't, why would he say yes?"

"Alec probably paid him to," muttered Lizzie, burying her head in her hands.

She, Rosalie, and Hermione were out in the courtyard, watching a snowball fight between Fred, George, Ron, and Harry. Blaise was about as emotionless as Snape but when Lizzie had finally gathered the courage to ask him, Rosalie could see a sparkle in his eyes. Her encouragement was hardly enough to convince Lizzie that he was being genuine, not under a spell cast by her brother.

"I come bearing gifts." Dante stepped into the courtyard, handing Hermione a wrapped brown package. "It's got the Bryce Barnes guarantee."

"It is safe, isn't it?" she asked, warily. "It won't burn me or anything?"

"Hermione, we're talking about _Witch Weekly_ 's seven years in a row winner for Best Hair," he said, in mock offense. "When it comes to haircare, he's the undisputed champion."

A snowball smacked into the wall, nearly striking her face. "Sorry!" yelled Ron. "Bad throw. Don't want your face to get all messed up before the ball. Who are you going with, by the way?"

"Subtle!" shouted Rosalie, enchanting a snowball to hit his chest.

It was another poor attempt by him to learn the identity of Hermione's date. Those who heard of her going with someone were keen to find out who but no one more than Ron. Rosalie had been sworn to secrecy, after witnessing Krum ask Hermione in the library when the two girls were studying for Snape's potions exam.

"I hate to steal her away but my date and I have somewhere to be." Lizzie scowled as Dante held out his arm. "My lady, our reservation awaits."

"We're going to Hogsmeade, not some five star restaurant. Ignore his dramatics," she told a curious Hermione. "We'll be back."

Heading to the Three Broomsticks, she sat at a corner table and Dante walked over to the bar, draping his coat over the chair. Waiting for him to return with their drinks, something shiny caught her eye and peeking into his inside pocket, she saw a spherical glass orb, identical to the one in Celeste's memories. The orb was filled with a swirling cloud of black smoke. Remembering that her hand stung after accidentally brushing against his coat, she wondered if this was the cause and the reason for her blackouts. Careful not to touch it again, she lifted it up with a napkin.

"Don't think I've ever seen Madam Rosmerta that happy," he said, carrying a tray of butterbeers. "Must be from all that mead she sold to—"

"What is this?" she asked, holding up the orb.

Dante lowered the tray. "It's um a draining orb. My father used it on me when I was younger and my magic was hard to control. It absorbs some of a person's magic and when they squeeze it, it goes back into their body. It's not a common object. He lets me have it in case I ever feel overwhelmed."

"That explains everything." He looked at her, confused. "At the first task, when you and Alec were fighting, I touched your coat and then I started to feel weird. I've been having these blackouts and these insane dreams. I must've absorbed the magic and it carried your memories."

"Right. Is that why you asked if we met before?" asked Dante, surprised. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm still learning what counts as normal to wizards," she replied, taking a sip of her butterbeer. "I thought I was going nuts."

"Of course not. You don't have to be afraid of being honest with me, Rosie. We're friends. I want what's best for you, always. Speaking of, I did say _gifts_ , meaning plural." Reaching inside his coat, he gave her a jewelry box containing sapphire earrings. "I thought they'd go with your dress."

"My dress is burgundy. You were literally there when I bought it with Lizzie. Is this why Bryce says he picks out your outfits?" she joked.

"That dress was lovely but I thought you might like the one I bought instead." A long black garment bag appeared on the table. "Do you remember where we met? Emilia had dragged me and Sienna to the boutique. You were with your mother, looking for a dress for a fancy dinner. You begged her to let you try on a dress in the window. Every morning, you'd stare at that dress and when Emilia asked, you said it was what you always imagined you'd wear at your first winter dance and your mother refused to buy it because you were too young."

Unzipping the bag, she stared at the dress inside, speechless. It was her 'perfect dress', the one, like he said, she imagined wearing to the winter dance once she was old enough to attend and, if her secret wish came true, Evan would be her date. If she was as spoiled as Dudley, she would have thrown a tantrum to get her way but she quietly accepted that it was not meant to be, that she would find another 'perfect dress'. Dante revealed that on the last day of their trip to London, he visited the boutique and paid the owner triple the price to keep the dress hidden until he returned for a special event.

"At the time, I was thinking I'd bring it to Smelting's, not Hogwarts, but a dance is a dance and you can still have that perfect moment," he said, resting her hand over hers.

Rosalie wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're mental. You didn't have to do this for me. I'm lucky to have you as a friend."

Returning to the castle later than planned, Dante brought her to the Beauxbatons carriage. Like the tents at the World Cup, it was bigger on the inside, resembling a mansion with each student having their own room and a fully stocked kitchen. Not needing as much time to get ready, he left her to wait in the drawing room with the Beauxbatons boys. Rosalie stood in front of his full length mirror to admire her dress, its color matching her earrings. The Swarovski crystals woven into the fabric glittered in the light, like miniature diamonds.

"A real Cinderella moment," said Celeste, standing behind her. "The potion will be ready soon. Once the moon is at its peak—"

"I drink the vial and it'll lead me to the prism," replied Rosalie, adjusting her waves with a twirl of her wand. "I won't forget."

There was a knock on the door. "Better not keep your prince charming waiting. Go enjoy yourself. I guarantee it'll be an unforgettable night."

Grabbing her clutch, she opened the door to Dante. "Wow. Good thing Bryce isn't here or you might've finally stolen him away from me."

"You're hilarious," she said, sarcastically. "Are we waiting for Julian?"

He helped her out of the carriage. "He left already. If Aimee is apart from Fleur for too long, she'll get into a frenzy. Someone has to be there to make sure she doesn't have a hair out of place or we'll have to cancel the ball."

The entrance hall was packed with students, all waiting for the doors to the Great Hall to open. As she searched for Harry, hoping he had not ditched Parvati at the last minute, she noticed several pairs of eyes on her. Those girls who threw her jealous looks when overhearing a boy ask her to the Yule Ball were now throwing her death glares, holding their dates in a vice grip, and the glares seemed to multiply the more girls noticed her.

"I definitely won't be leaving your side tonight," whispered Dante. "One of these girls might cast a killing curse to keep their date from gawking at you. Roger Davies is about to explode. He can't decide whether to look at you or Fleur."

More Slytherins emerged from the dungeons, most of them accompanied by fellow Slytherins. A sulky Vivienne had an equally miserable Adrian by her side, growling at him when his hand touched her waist.

"Rosie!" Lizzie, wearing a low-cut emerald green dress, hugged her. "Your dress—what happened to the one you bought? Not that it's…either way, you look amazing. Doesn't she?"

In a rare moment without silent judgment, Blaise nodded. "You look lovely."

"Fair warning, don't talk to Vivienne," said Lizzie, glancing back at the dungeons door. "She's livid that she couldn't go with Alec and had this full blown argument with Snape about it. Avoid all eye contact, if possible."

Harry anxiously walked down the staircase with Parvati. Ron was a couple steps behind, struggling to hide the frayed ends of his dress robes. Waving at Harry from across the hall, Rosalie mimed for him to compliment Parvati but he was too busy staring at Cho and Cedric. McGonagall beckoned for the champions, having them wait on one side of the doors. It was tradition for the champions to open the dance, which led to Rosalie having to teach a clueless Harry how to dance late at night in an empty classroom on the seventh floor.

At eight o'clock, the doors opened and the chattering crowd flooded into the Great Hall. When girls were not looking her with deep loathing, the boys doing the same to Dante, their stares were directed at Hermione, who was like a whole new person with her sleek and shiny hair and her periwinkle blue dress.

"You look great," she mouthed to a blushing Hermione.

The Great Hall resembled a winter wonderland. Its walls were covered in sparkling silver frost and garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossed the starry ceiling. The usual House tables had been replaced with hundreds of smaller, lantern-lit ones. Towards the front of the hall, the judges were sitting at a large round table. There was no sign of Mr. Crouch, a pompous Percy instead seated next to a joyous Ludo Bagman.

"Shouldn't you be standing somewhere else, _professor_?" Hearing Lizzie, Rosalie turned her head to see Alec approaching them. "Someone's forgetting what his caring, level-headed sister told him today. Why don't you go over to Snape?"

"I can stand where I want," he said, Lizzie pointedly pursing her lips. "I don't see a sign that says otherwise."

As the champions entered the Great Hall, the crowd applauded until they were seated at the front table. The rest of the students took their seats, Dante pulling out Rosalie's chair for her. Lizzie, Blaise, Alec and several Slytherins joined their table, Alec sitting on the other side of Rosalie and a determined Vivienne directly across from him.

"I wonder why Percy's here. Do you think something happened to Crouch?" asked Rosalie, seeing him talk to Harry.

"Crouch isn't known for his fun-loving personality," replied Alec. "He must've sent Weasley to avoid all this."

Following Dumbledore's example, they all picked up the menus and spoke their choices aloud, the food appearing on their plates. The Great Hall was abuzz with a variety of conversations. Halfway through their meal, a heated debate about the Weird Sisters, the band performing for the Yule Ball erupted at their table, Lizzie and Dante, for once, in agreement. Rosalie was unable to understand the appeal, preferring the music in the muggle world.

"You can't criticize their name," said Dante, raising two fingers. "Two words, hypocrite. Twisted Panda."

"What's that?" asked Lizzie, curiously.

"Evan's band and it is _not_ the same." Dante shook his head. "The name has a deep meaning. They got it from…well, he's not here so I can't ask him but it took them like months to settle on it."

"Doesn't make it any less stupid." Rosalie playfully glared at him. "I've heard them play and it sounds like screeching fwoopers."

After the food disappeared, Dumbledore asked them to stand and flicking his wand, he pushed the tables along the walls. A raised platform emerged from the floor with instruments. The Weird Sisters, grown, very hairy men in torn black robes, marched onto the stage and began to play a slow, mournful tune. All four champions and their partners moved to the newly created dance floor, waltzing to the music.

"Don't think Potter paid attention to your lessons," Draco whispered in her ear. "He looks like a flailing fish."

How could he know about the lessons? "He's not—shut up, he's fine," she hissed, refusing to side with his valid point. Parvati had taken charge, fed up with Harry constantly switching his hands. "Like you're any better…"

More couples stepped onto the floor. "If you want to dance with me, just say so."

"In your dreams," she countered.

Dante led her out to the floor, the two moving around gracefully. She stifled a giggle against his shoulder at the sight of Dumbledore with Maxime, the top of his pointed hat tickling her chin. Dancing to song after song, both slow and fast, they were enjoying themselves though Dante had to contend with boys attempting to cut in, either offering to switch partners for a song or two or abandoning their dates entirely. After the tenth song, they walked off the dance floor to get drinks.

"Can you blame them?" he asked, his arm around her shoulder. "I did take the prettiest girl. Don't let them bother you. They're too insecure that they can't keep their date's attention or seeing you in this dress is making them reevaluate a few things."

Her smile faltered at the sound of Hermione shouting, her rage directed towards an equally red Ron. He was sitting at a table with an annoyed Padma and Harry. Searching for Parvati around the hall, she found her laughing and dancing with a Beauxbatons boy. From what she could gather, Ron and Hermione were fighting over her being at the ball with Krum, Ron accusing him of using her for help in the tournament or to spy on Harry.

"Don't call him Vicky!" yelled Hermione.

Furious, she stormed back into the crowd, Ron's expression a mixture of anger and satisfaction. "Why don't you uh handle that mess and I'll come back with drinks?" offered Dante.

Just as she approached the table, Padma left to join her sister and Percy had taken her seat.

"Hi Percy, good to see you again," she said, sweetly. She hit both Harry and Ron over the head with her clutch, causing them to simultaneously cry out in pain. "What the hell are you doing? Why is your date with another boy? She should be dancing with you."

"I don't feel like dancing," he mumbled.

"Because it's not with Cho?" she asked, mockingly. "That doesn't mean you ignore your date. You should write a book. How to make a girl despise you in ten minutes or less. And what about you, carrot top? Why are you being mean to Hermione? I know you're both dense but believe or not, she's been a girl this entire time and her being Krum's date doesn't make her some Durmstrang spy. Let her have fun. Stop thinking with the wand between your legs and apologize to her right now. Don't make me count to five."

"What do they think they're doing, annoying senior Ministry members?" Percy hissed, watching Fred and George. " _No_ respect…"

Shaking off a persistent Fred and George, Bagman waved at Harry and ambled over to their table. "Ah, Rosalie, you're certainly the belle of the ball, aren't you?" She scrunched her nose when he kissed her hand. "A true vision."

"Not trying to steal my date, are you, Mr. Bagman?" asked Dante, handing her a glass of punch.

"Merely complimenting her beautiful dress," said Bagman, good-naturedly.

Rosalie subtly kicked Harry's shin as she followed Dante. "I'm supposed to talk to Bryce soon. He doesn't have much time between sets," he said, checking his watch. "Do you mind?"

"No, I wanted to get some fresh air anyway." She pecked his cheek. "Tell him I said hi. I'll be outside."

Leaving the Great Hall, she wandered into the rose garden. Tiny fairies were fluttering around, illuminating the bushes and stone sculptures. The full moon was in view, high in the sky. Sitting on a carved bench, she removed the vial from her clutch and downed its contents in one sip. Celeste had warned her that it could take minutes for the potion to take effect. She heard frightened squeals nearby and seconds later, dark shapes sped out of the bushes.

"Ditching your date already?"

Alec was at the other end of the bench, hands in his pockets. "He's talking to Bryce," she told him. "I didn't want to intrude. Besides, I needed a break."

"Got tired of him stepping on your toes all night?" he asked, walking towards her. "You can tell me the truth. I did tell you he'd be a horrible date."

"Why do you do that?" She glanced up at him. "You always have to assert yourself, like some kind of alpha male."

"It's who I am," he said, simply. "I can't help it anymore than you can help everyone's eyes on you in a room. You might've achieved house unity tonight, with all those girls plotting your death."

With a loud bang, twigs, roses, and leaves flew into the air. Alec pulled her close, casting a charm over them. Snape and Karkaroff were on the winding path through the garden, Snape's dark eyes on the partially destroyed rosebush. Hearing him shout Cabot, she thought he had spotted them but Alec quickly covered her mouth when she realized he meant Lizzie, who was with Blaise. Reprimanding them for 'childish behavior', he ordered them back to the castle. Rosalie could barely hold in her giggles at Blaise's ruffled collar and Lizzie's strap completely off her shoulder.

As the two men passed, Snape continuing to weed out hidden couples while speaking to Karkaroff in a hushed whisper, Alec lifted the charm. "Well, I owe her twenty gallons now. Lizzie and I made a bet. I said she wouldn't have the guts to make a move on Zabini and she said I wouldn't be able to avoid a dance the whole night."

"You haven't danced at all?" asked Rosalie, aghast. A slow song carried through the open windows. "That's the whole point of a ball, silly. I can hear them playing again. Come on, you could dance with Jenna or Penelope. I did see Percy eyeing Penelope earlier so Jenna's the safer choice."

"Or we could stay right here," he suggested. "Where the professors won't see us. You said I needed to dance and in a way, I'm saving you from potentially being transfigured into a dung beetle."

As his hand rested on her waist, she felt like a thousand butterflies were swarming inside her stomach. His free hand gently clasped hers and they danced under the moonlight. Like Dante, he was very graceful.

"I heard Salvatore telling Maxime he was going home tomorrow. Are you going with him?" he asked, sounding bitter.

"For a couple days," she replied, knowing it was a sensitive subject. "I'd like seeing Emilia and Sienna. I've never been to the states before so it'll be fun. It's not for forever. You can't handle a few days without me?"

"No." She was surprised by his answer. "If I was selfish, I'd go to Dumbledore and make up some lie so you'd have to stay. If I was _really_ selfish, I would've taken you away from Hogwarts after what happened at the Shrieking Shack. We have a summer home in Santorini. It's unplottable so no one could find us and we could spend all day on the beach. You'd love it there but you'd never want to leave Potter behind. Do you remember when Vivienne and I fought on Halloween?"

Rosalie felt a warm tickle in her throat. "She hasn't let me forget it."

"I didn't tell you everything. She was mad that I went to the muggle world but there was more to it. She accused me of something that I wasn't ready to admit to anyone, not even myself." Curious, she lifted her head from his chest. "When McGonagall made that comment towards me, everyone probably assumed it was about Vivienne but she never crossed my mind. I only wanted to be with one person tonight."

"Alec," she said, the overly warm sensation spreading all over her body.

He cupped her cheek. "Rose, I—"

Draco was outside the Great Hall with some of the Slytherins, drinking a bottle of butterbeer. Pansy had finally allowed him to abandon the dance floor, disappearing with the girls to freshen up and likely gossip about their dates. Sandwiched between Blaise and Lizzie, he could feel the awkward tension between the two teenagers, neither saying where they had gone minutes before but it was obvious to him that they had acted on years of hidden emotion. Vivienne, downing her fifth butterbeer in a row, was whining to Camille and Priscilla, driving Adrian mad with her refusal to dance or let him dance with any other girl.

"You're _my_ date, you git," she snarled.

"Not by choice," he snapped back, earning himself an icy glare. "You could've at least let me ask someone else. There are plenty of girls to—"

"Like Dursley?" asked Camille. She had not spoken to Graham after catching him watch Rosalie and Dante on the dance floor. "Why don't you go ask her with Graham since you two are so desperate for mudblood germs?"

She and Priscilla returned to the Great Hall to grab more butterbeers, Camille purposely tossing her hair back to smack Graham in the face. Draco kept quiet, not wanting to receive a lashing for the same alleged crime. Thanks to his father, he had known about the Yule Ball for months and if he was not such a coward, he would have asked Rosalie before Dante had a chance to swoop in and give her the stupid idea of being her date.

Pansy was oblivious to the fact that he spent half the night secretly staring at her and the other half telling himself not to do so, at the risk of being exposed by Pansy or someone else. How could he help himself when she looked that stunning?

Dante left the Great Hall, looking around the corridor. "Where's Rosie?" asked Lizzie, pushing her hair forward to cover her neck. "I need to talk to her. Girl stuff."

"I was about to ask you the same," he said, tucking a two-way mirror into his pocket. "She went outside while I was talking to Bryce but I don't see her out there. You didn't see her walk by?"

"Lizzie!" he heard.

Alec hurried towards the staircase, where she was seated on the bottom step with Draco and Blaise. Underneath his hand, a trail of blood was visible on the side of his head.

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Graham.

Wincing, he lowered his hand, revealing the deep cut. "I was in the garden with Rose and—"

" _Just_ you two?" asked Lizzie, accusingly. Vivienne's nostrils flared like an angry dragon. "Do you tune me out when I talk to you? What did I s—"

"Not now!" he shouted. "We were talking and then she hit me with a banishing charm. Something was wrong with her eyes. I think it might've been an imperius curse. It could be the same person who attacked her and Potter. I tried following her into the castle but she's gone."

Draco rose from the staircase with Lizzie. "Where could she go? We need to tell Dumbledore—hey!"

Dante had broken the clasp of her bracelet. "Avenseguim," he muttered.

The bracelet floated in mid-air then zoomed up the staircase. Dante chased after it with speed of a billywig and Alec did the same, despite Lizzie's pleas of it being a potential trap. Forgetting all about telling the professors, Lizzie followed after them with Draco, Blaise, Adrian, Graham, and Vivienne. Their pursuit led them up to the seventh floor, down a dimly lit corridor. Alec and Dante were pacing in front of a bare wall, opposite a tapestry of dancing trolls.

"She went in there," said Alec, pounding his fist on the wall. "There was a door and now there's not. It must be enchanted somehow."

"I can't believe I'm saying this. We need to get Snape," reasoned Vivienne. "Even if we find the door, what if that psycho is on the other side? You don't know what he's capable of, Alec. He could kill us."

"We can't wait," he hissed, frantically moving his hands around the cracked stone. "There has to be a way in. We have to find Rose."

A polished door suddenly appeared in the wall. Seizing the brass handle, Dante ran into the room. It was the size of a cathedral, the high windows sending streaks of moonlights onto the sloping walls. Draco found it impossible to move in any direction with all the clutter, the room filled with dozens of objects like stacks of books, damaged furniture, and dusty cauldrons. Rosalie was next to a tall cupboard, holding a snow globe. The glass cracked between her fingers, emitting a golden glow.

"Fuck." Dante rushed forward. "Rosie, don't!"

As he grabbed ahold of her, a wave of golden light burst from the snow globe. Draco felt a harsh tug on his chest and slammed into the floor. Fighting the pain in his head, he sat up, finding himself in the hospital wing. His first thought was that one of the professors had discovered them but then, he noticed minute differences like the wallpaper, a pale green instead of white, and the burn mark missing from the door, caused by a Hufflepuff the previous year who had a charms mishap. The beds were occupied by Alec and the other Slytherins, each slowly waking up themselves.

"How did we get here?" asked Adrian, his hand on his lower back. "I feel like a house fell on me."

The door to Madam Pomfrey's office opened but instead of the caring nurse, a blonde girl around fifteen stepped out, carrying a vial of a lime green potion. Instead of a dress or the uniform, she was wearing a long sleeve off the shoulder blouse, artfully ripped in the back, a green and black plaid skirt, and ankle boots. There was something oddly familiar about her and he was about to chalk it up to his head pain until he saw the ghostly pale faces of Vivienne, Alec, Adrian, and Graham.

"Finally, you're up. I've got just the stuff to help that headache," she said, happily. Vivienne scooted back as she neared the bed. "It's not poison, Vivvie. You always did hate taking medicine."

"C—Cece?" Vivienne stammered. "H—how—you—is this—did we die?"

Draco's eyes widened at the realization that this was her older sister Celeste. He recalled meeting her once or twice and while he did not know her well, he knew for certain that she was dead. Her death had been all over the _Daily Prophet_ , with rumors of a potions accident at Hogwarts and the school's safety called into question by the parents. He had attended the funeral at the Carrow Manor, remembering how her mother kept bursting into tears and her father had discussed the hope of imprisoning Dumbledore with Draco's father out in the garden.

It had been ten years since that sorrowful day and yet Celeste looked the same as the picture displayed beside her casket. Reaching for his wand, Alec made a silent motion for them not to move a muscle.

"You died," said Vivienne, at Celeste's silence. "We were all at your funeral. How are you—if this is some sick joke, you psycho, I'll—"

"Viv, relax," she replied, taking her hands. "You're not dead and neither am I. It's what our parents had to say because the truth is…complicated."

"Which is what?" asked Alec, rising from his bed.

Her eyes passed over him with interest. "Is that you, Alec? Look who got all handsome. We're in a time prism. It's ancient magic that mimics our world except that it's suspended in time. It's why I haven't aged. After the explosion, the Ministry wanted answers and someone to blame. Dumbledore said I caused the explosion on purpose because I was unstable and going to St. Mungo's wouldn't help. He talked to the school governors and Bagnold and they decided to send me here. You know how he sees us Slytherins. He thinks we're all destined to be the next Dark Lord."

"Y—you've been in here ever since?" said Lizzie, surprised. "Only you?"

"Mostly. After me, they got a little trigger happy with sending the bad seeds but for them, it was like a time out," explained Celeste. "Dumbledore would take them out once he thought they learned their lesson. I've gotten used to the loneliness but having no magic sucks. You can stop making that constipated face, Alec. You're all basically muggles in this world."

Alec lowered his wand, keeping it by his hip. Vivienne was the only one to follow Celeste out the door, the rest showing hesitation. Staying close to Alec, they walked along the corridor, noting its differences that gave some credence to Celeste's story. If no time passed, the prism likely reflected the Hogwarts she had attended ten years ago, not the one of the present. Celeste brought them down to the kitchens and opened a pantry.

"Anyone hungry? Thirsty? We're all alone so if you want some firewhiskey to calm your nerves, I won't tell," she teased, grabbing a bottle of butterbeer. "There's no mirror McGonagall around to give you detention."

"If there's no magic, how do you have food?" asked Draco, looking at the dirty dishes in the sink.

Celeste waved her heavily bandaged hand. "We don't have magic but this whole prism is constructed by it. Dumbledore's not a monster. It's my turn for twenty questions. Why did he send you here?"

"He didn't," replied Lizzie, still wary of the presumed dead teenager. "Someone hexed our friend. They controlled her and she went into this enchanted room and picked up…well, it was a snow globe. Then we woke up in the hospital wing."

"So there's more of you? One of you little ducklings got lost?" Alec stopped Lizzie from answering the question. "Hey, I'm not the enemy here. If you're missing friends, I can help. I know this world like the back of my hand."

"Great," he said, unamused. "Then how do we get out?"

"If I knew that, would I still be here?" She jumped down from the counter. "But maybe there is a way. Come on, I have an idea."

As she left the kitchens, Alec grabbed Vivienne's arm. He was suspicious of Celeste and her intentions, unwilling to trust her completely. If Celeste was the sole person in the prism, who could corroborate her story? The fact that Dumbledore sent her to this world, forgoing detentions or mandatory sessions at St. Mungo's, meant that she was dangerous, which lined up with Alec's memories of her.

Adrian and Graham were silent when he turned to them for back up his assertions and Vivienne reacted negatively, insisting that her sister was innocent. Despite Alec's insistence that Celeste had a history of borderline psychotic behavior, showing his scar as proof by implying he received it from Celeste toying with him and Vivienne during a night of babysitting, she refused to believe him.

"You're blocking out the truth, Viv," he said, keeping the door closed with one hand. "I know she's your sister and for all these years, you thought she was dead but that doesn't excuse what she did in the past. Our families protect each other. Draco's father was on the board of governors at that time. Do you really think he would let your family go through that pain if there wasn't a good reason? Randall Turpin testified—"

"Turpin? You'd believe that nosy bookworm over me?" she snapped. "He accused her of hurting Ivana Rosier too and then guess what, it was him. Did he get sent to some freaky time prism? No. He got counseling and then came back months later."

"Are you forgetting what happened that day? Six first years were killed in the explosion. They were blown to bits," he hissed. "The aurors couldn't identify them if it wasn't for Turpin, who saw them with Celeste. I'm not accusing her of hurting them for her own enjoyment but we can't blindly believe her. We need to be careful and focus on finding Rose and Salvatore and getting home."

Celeste returned to the kitchens, holding a glass cube. A cloud of black smoke swirled inside, reminding Draco of the orb Dante had used on an unconscious Rosalie. Alec and Vivienne were still silently feuding, managing a straight face in her presence.

"What is that?" asked Blaise, nodding towards the cube.

"An avarium medeis." She sighed at their confused expressions. "Education has gone downhill since my days. It is an object created in medieval times, capable of absorbing a wizard or witch's magic. In those olden days, they used it to treat obscurials and to punish criminals by draining them of their abilities. Let's call it our potential solution."

"You want us to go near something that can turn us permanently into muggles," said Adrian, stepping back. "I'll pass."

"Relax, little Pucey," He bristled at her ironic taunt, considering he towered over her. "A typical one would be dangerous to touch without protection but this one's special. It was designed for a specific person so it won't affect us. The magic trapped in here could be enough to break through the prism's defenses and then poof, we're out."

"If it's that easy, why haven't you done it before?" asked Vivienne, puzzled.

"I'm a talented witch, obviously, but it's a lot of magic to harness and if I couldn't, it would just escape into the prism." She looked around at them. "That's where you come in. We're descended from powerful bloodlines and if we work together, we could handle it. It's not 100% foolproof but we don't have a lot of options. We find your lost friends and then we could give it a go."

"And how do we find them without magic?" asked a doubtful Draco. "You said this prism is like the real world. They could be anywhere."

"You were in Hogwarts when the prism opened so it would've dropped you somewhere similar," replied Celeste, placing the cube in a knapsack. "You all ended up in the Great Hall. Your friends won't be too far. Our magic may be gone but it doesn't mean a potion can't help. Do you have something of theirs to track? Vivienne said they were touching when the prism opened so my guess is they're together."

Alec reluctantly handed her Lizzie's bracelet. Reaching into the knapsack, she took out a vial and poured the silvery liquid over the bracelet, rubbing it in with her fingers. Like it had done before with Dante's spell, the bracelet floated in the air, acting as a tracker. The potion wore off as they reached Hogsmeade, leaving them to search the shops. Alec seemed to be growing more impatient by the minute. Looking through the unusually empty Three Broomsticks, they flipped over every table and chair.

"How did you hurt your hand?" Celeste tensed up at Lizzie's question. "Sorry. I talk a lot when I'm nervous."

"I was hiking," said Celeste, checking behind the bar. "If there's any upside to being trapped, it's getting a chance to explore. My father would've thrown a fit if I ever asked to do anything that wasn't tea parties or dress shopping. It's kind of nice not to have to ask for permission. This is another dead end. On to the next shop but don't worry. Once we find Rosie, we're all set."

Alec held out his arm, pushing Lizzie and Draco against the counter. "We never told you their names. All we said was that two of us were missing."

Celeste stood still in the doorway. At first, he thought that somehow Alec regained his magic and had stunned her but then she turned on her heel, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

She feigned a gasp. "Oh no, you caught me. Damn, I really thought I could keep it up. My father always did say I was too cocky."

"It wasn't an accident. You brought her here," said Alec, picking up a broken firewhiskey bottle.

"Ding, ding, ding. Right again!" she exclaimed. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for someone to hear me? I was practically screaming at the top of my lungs every day and then, I got my wish. You should've told Snape right away about her little gift."

"Alec, what is she talking about?" whispered Lizzie.

"But then you couldn't be her knight in shining armor, could you?" said Celeste, mockingly. "You didn't have the answers. You were still trying to figure it out yourself and I showed up to give her what she needed. I couldn't get her here if our connection wasn't strong enough so I told her to test her limits. You were right that she used it to sneak off on Halloween. All she wanted was to see her worthless muggle friends and I helped her. Now she's going to help me."

"You're not getting anywhere near her," he snarled. "I'll—"

Her eyes rolling to the back of her head, she collapsed to the floor. Dante was behind her, clutching a metal tray. Stepping over her unconscious body, he cautiously kept his distance, as if they were illusions.

"D—Dante, it's us," said Lizzie, raising her hands slightly. "Please tell me Rosie's with you."

He placed the tray on a dusty stool. "No. I woke up in the Honeyduke's cellar. We can talk later. First, we need to get as far away from her. Magic or not, she's dangerous."

"He's right." Celeste rose from the floor, emerald green sparks bouncing off her fingertips. "With it, I'm downright deadly."

Draco felt like he had been violently punched in the stomach. As he lifted his hand, there was some resistance and he realized his hand was shackled to the wall. Adrian and Lizzie flailed on either side of him, wrestling to break free from the chains. Surrounding torches lit up, revealing that they were no longer in the Three Broomsticks but in a cavern. Bending down in front of Dante, Celeste squeezed his chin.

"What a disappointment you are." She giggled at his failed attempt to lunge at her. "If it's any consolation, your hunch was right. I think it's so sweet that you uprooted your entire life to protect her but let's be honest. You could never outsmart me, Dante. You've grown up but it doesn't make you any less dimwitted. Your heroics were for nothing."

Dante glared at her. "How do you have magic?"

"That's a fun tale. Ten years is a long time. Dumbledore thought stripping me of my abilities would humble me…make me see the error of my ways but it only made me more determined," she said, her nails digging into his skin. "I've been doing research from the beginning. You thought I had accepted my fate but when you were busy sobbing about missing mommy and daddy, I was finding a way to change it. There were a few missteps along the way but I finally cracked the code. Let's see what's behind door number one, shall we?"

One of the walls vanished with a flick of her wrist. The light from the torches illuminated what Draco originally assumed to be an oddly shaped boulder, his heart racing at the sight of a pile of bodies. It consisted of small children and teenagers who possibly had been Celeste's own classmates, showing no signs of life. Celeste identified them as the 'bad seeds' the Ministry sent into the prism, the ones who were considered irredeemable like her. Her research led her to a potion that allowed her to draining their life force, including their magic.

"It hurts me too," she said, massaging her bandaged hand. "Dark magic isn't something to toy with lightly but I was willing to pay the price. They gave up on ever escaping. If anyone was going to, it would be me. For some of them, I didn't even have to say much to convince them."

A thin boy levitated out of the macabre pile. He looked very similar to Draco, with his disheveled white blonde hair, except that his lifeless eyes were hazel green instead of grey.

Celested pouted at him. "You and Gaius were so close. Like brothers…" Her sentiment lacked any remorse. "It was a shame that I had to use him. He really could've been a great wizard."

"You—" Draco was wrenched back by the chain. "You're a monster."

"Celeste, this isn't you," said Vivienne, tearing up. "You're not—you wouldn't—if someone's making you do this, you can tell us. Let us go and we can help. I know this isn't you."

"You're as brainless as our mother," replied Celeste, harshly. "This _is_ me, Viv. I've always been a fighter, a survivor. I don't need your help."

"Then why go through all this to get Rose here?" Her cold eyes darted to Alec. "You act like you're this amazing witch and you've got magic. Why can't you break yourself out?"

Celeste growled like a rabid dog. "Merlin, you're annoying. I should've snapped your neck the second you went running to mommy about that scar." His remark had clearly gotten under her skin. "I won't make the mistake of blabbing everything to you. Enjoy your new home. I have a pageant girl to find."

Blowing a distraught Vivienne a kiss, she apparated from the cavern. Alec searched for anything that could break through the chains, resorting to smashing it with a rock. Draco was frozen to the ground, staring at Gaius's dead body. He had come to terms with his death, when he believed it was caused by an illness, but learning the truth opened up those old wounds.

"You were in here." Lizzie was looking at Dante, who had his head between his knees. "If you knew about Celeste, why didn't you tell us?"

"My father swore me to secrecy," he muttered. "Celeste getting sent to the prism was this big coverup. If someone like Rita Skeeter found out, she'd have a field day tearing the Ministry to shreds. They wouldn't let me out unless I promised to never tell anyone the truth about it. Would you have believed me if I told you any of this was real?"

Dante confessed that when he was younger, he struggled with controlling his magic. It caused him to unintentionally act out, like when he turned Lizzie blue at her seventh birthday party. After a particularly bad incident involving a couple maids and a cook, his parents sought help from Dumbledore, hearing rumors of the time prism.

Dumbledore had been reluctant to send Dante, not believing he was that terrible and just a victim of circumstance, but seeing his parents' desperation, he agreed to it, under the guise of Dante visiting his grandparents for the summer. While he was trapped in the prism, his parents, with Dumbledore's assistance, worked on a way for him to control his abilities and once it was perfected, he was able to return home. In the months between, he had met Celeste, Gaius, and dozens of others and his innocence made him susceptible to Celeste's manipulations. She was the self-appointed leader, though no one would dare to challenge her.

"Most kids listened to her out of fear. Some, like Gaius, fell for her bullshit. She filled their heads with the hope of escaping to get their vengeance." He rested his head against the wall. "Dumbledore caught on so if he ever had to send in another kid, he'd put up a barrier so she couldn't get to them."

"But what does she want with Rosie?" she pressed on. "She had that magic cube thing. Before we found you, she said she wanted to use it to break out of the prism. Doesn't she—what is it?"

Dante was mumbling under his breath. "They hid it in here. I knew that oversized bat was lying. Idiots…"

"Salvatore, stop talking to yourself like a mental patient," snapped Alec. "If we're getting out of here, we need to work together."

"The avarium medeis. That's her plan," said Dante, looking anxious. "She needs Rosie to open it."

"Celeste said she'd need our help to control the magic inside," said Draco, wincing from the pain in his wrist. "What does R—Dursley have to do with that? Do you need a specific number of people?"

Dante shook his head. "She said that to gain your trust. Dumbledore created it himself and the magic can only travel back to the original witch or wizard. The chamber belongs to Rosie. He used it on her seven years ago, when he brought her into the prism."


	9. Double-cross

"Are you spying on me, princess?"

"What happened wasn't your fault. It was an accident."

"You're in no danger here. This is the best place for you until we find a solution."

Feeling like she had been struck by multiple speeding trains in succession, it required extreme effort for Rosalie to just open her eyes. Stretching her hand, she used the nearest surface to heave herself up from the floor. Finding herself in her dormitory, her first thought was that she had experienced another blackout in the midst of her tense moment with Alec in the rose garden. The room was oddly clean, none of the usual clutter of makeup and haircare products on Daphne's bed or the latest edition of _Witch Weekly_ on the floor. Spotting The Hobgoblins poster on the wall, she realized that she was in Celeste's old room.

Rosalie cautiously walked down to the common room, tuning out the clamor of indistinct voices. As she bumped against the familiar couch, the darkened space suddenly brightened and filled with people in Slytherin uniforms, sitting by the windows with their noses in books or joking around while laying on the couches around the fireplace. It was a scene she had been part of many times after meals or between lessons. Her hand passed through an older boy on the couch, much like what happened with ghosts around the castle.

Celeste was beside him with the red Ancient Runes book. The boy lifted up her legs, placing them over his lap, and as he did so, Rosalie noticed a phoenix tattoo on his wrist. Tracing tiny circles on one of her knees, he asked if she was ready to take the next step.

"Ugh, can you not talk about your vomit-inducing relationship out loud?" asked a redheaded girl in an armchair, scrunching her nose.

"Ignore her, Elijah. Farley's virgin ears can't handle such dirty talk." Hiding her face behind a quidditch magazine, she flipped off the teasing Celeste, who leaned over to the sniggering boy. "I'm definitely ready. We just need some volunteers."

"Rosie." The real Celeste was standing in the archway. "You did it. You're—I can't believe you're actually here."

All of the ghosts disappeared, the common room returning to its bleak state. Celeste pulled her into a hug, surprising Rosalie. The fact that she could feel every part of her confirmed that she was inside the prism. Sensing her confusion, Celeste apologized for the potion's effects. Having never made it herself, she was unaware of how it would guide Rosalie to the prism, which it had done by putting her in a hypnotized state to control her body. Getting in was tough in its own right but getting out of the prism, with Celeste being magically bound to it, was another issue.

She brought Rosalie to Snape's office. It was usually locked with several charms, the surly professor not much for one on one time with students. Mirroring his gloomy demeanor, the office was lined with shelves of glass jars containing animal parts, plants, and various potions. The sole source of light was the burning fireplace in the corner.

"What are you looking for?" Rosalie asked, as Celeste perused the shelves. "I thought unlinking the rope broke through the prism's enchantments."

"It only broke the enchantment to get in," explained Celeste, picking up a jar of dark yellow powder. "Once it senses more than one person, the prism fortifies itself to trap intruders. Severus kept his best stuff in his office. It could help us pinpoint the prism's weak spots and we can use that as an escape. If it's not here, we'll have to make the potion ourselves. Go to his private stores and get boomslang skin and niffler snout."

On her way to the storeroom, she saw that boy Elijah again, at the end of the corridor. He was accompanied by two young Hufflepuff boys, both looking about eleven. He shushed the impatient boys as Celeste walked towards them, passing through Rosalie, with four more first years, three girls and another boy. A fourth boy, the same age as her and Elijah, rounded the corner, looking irate.

"You're full of it, Carrow," he spat. "You've skipped every tutoring session set up by McGonagall and now you're interested? What are you up to?"

Celeste placed a hand over her heart. "I'm merely doing my duties as a prefect and an upstanding student, Turpin. They'll learn far more from me than you. Remind me who got the top score on Snape's exam?" His caramel colored cheeks reddened. "Besides, I don't think they feel that safe with you after what you did to poor Ivana. Eli, my love, why don't you go ahead? I'll meet you in the potions classroom."

Randall Turpin's glare fell into a frown at the frightened first years cowering behind Elijah's muscular frame. As Elijah led them towards the potions classroom, Turpin rounded on Celeste, accusing her of using his past mistakes as her personal weapon. When she had told Rosalie about Randall Turpin, she painted him as a wolf in sheep's clothing, a deranged lunatic hidden beneath the facade of a brilliant, kind student, but he seemed genuinely remorseful over the incident involving Ivana Rosier.

He admitted to snatching her but it had been borne out of ill-advised intent, driven by the burden of his alcoholic father and having to care for his younger siblings. Celeste was oddly smug as he insisted that his counseling sessions at St. Mungo's helped him find healthier ways of channeling his grief and stress but it was people like her who wanted to constantly throw the past in his face. She mockingly clapped, telling him his therapist should become a playwright for his 'almost believable, load of dung speech'.

"I know you're up to something," he hissed. Elijah returned, stuffing an empty potions vial in his back pocket. "The only person you care about is yourself. You may have Elijah wrapped around your finger but I'm not fooled."

"These paranoid delusions of yours are so entertaining," she replied, glancing over at Elijah. "Keep him away from my little firsties. I don't need him scaring them in the middle of teaching a forgetfulness potion."

The ghosts disappeared one by one, the last being a suspicious Randall Turpin heading out of the dungeons. Hearing a door slam, Rosalie darted into the storeroom and found the two ingredients on a high shelf. A frustrated Celeste was waiting for her, several jars sticking out of her knapsack. Unable to find some of the necessary ingredients, she suggested checking the apothecary in Hogsmeade. She was not very talkative as they entered the apothecary.

"So when we get out, we should probably find Dumbledore," said Rosalie, following her to the back room. "You'll want to explain to him what really happened that day. You said it was Randall Turpin, right? He might ask me to corroborate so I don't want to forget anything important."

Celeste examined a jar of grey slime. "Yep, Turpin stunned me and then messed with the cauldron I was using to teach the first years."

"Too many nettles in the boil cure potion." Rosalie stood outside the room, noting her lack of a response. "I remember you telling me. It's lucky that he managed to get away from the blast unharmed. You can't apparate inside Hogwarts so he must've been fast."

"Guess so. Otherwise, he'd be the one in this hell, not me," she argued. Behind her back, Rosalie was eyeing a large jar filled with glittery black powder. "We can worry about the details later. There it is, hiding behind the salamander blood."

Celeste turned at the sound of breaking glass. The room quickly became enveloped in pitch black smoke, snuffing out any light. Rosalie shut the door, sticking a chair under the handle, and ran into _Gladrags_ , a boutique across the street. Hiding behind a rack of dresses in the corner, she did her best to keep quiet, holding her breath at the sound of a creaking door. Celeste called out to her, her tone sweet and melodic, telling her that she was spooked by a tipped jar of Peruvian instant darkness powder. Her footsteps steadily grew closer to Rosalie's hiding spot.

Rosalie froze as she peered around the rack but to her confusion, Celeste, sporting a bloody lip, did not acknowledge her. She was staring directly at her, covered in brightly colored fabrics, and if her silence was not peculiar enough, she was holding a thin black wand. Her eyes widened as a jet of red light flew over her head, singeing the _Gladrags_ sign on the wall. Peeking out from the bottom of the rack, she watched Celeste push over a rack of robes and throw spells around the shop, destroying the clothes and mannequins. Blasting the door off its hinges, Celeste left the shop, once more adopting that overly sweet tone when shouting her name.

Waiting a few minutes, she carefully sneaked out of the shop and hid in the alley, until Celeste walked into Honeyduke's. She was startled by someone saying her name but there was no one else in the alley. Thinking that it was her legilimency, she tried to focus on the sound of their voice, walking up a winding dirt path near Dervish and Banges. The path ended at the foot of the mountain that overshadowed the village, encasing a series of caves. Entering one of the caves, the voices returned but they were not inside her head.

Following the voices, she discovered Dante, Alec, and several Slytherins fighting amongst themselves, all shackled to the wall. Was it some ploy to draw Rosalie out of hiding? Draco was the first to see her but before he could open his mouth, she threw a pebble at him.

He reared his head back. "Dursley, what the hell?!"

"You're not ghosts." Abandoning their arguing, they looked over at her. "Y—you're actually—how are you here?"

"Rosie?" asked Lizzie, sounding hesitant. "Oh thank Merlin. We thought Celeste might've found you first."

Rosalie moved towards them. "Celeste did this?"

"And then she left to find you," said Alec, pale purple bruises dotting his wrist. "Rose, you need to get something to undo the chains. Go down to the apothecary. The owner has jars of ashwinder eggs. The shells burn hot enough to melt—"

They slumped forward, the chains torn from the wall. Adrian muttered about losing feeling in his left wrist. Dante hopped to his feet and tilted up Rosalie's chin, checking if she was under a spell.

"Can't be too careful," he whispered. "We'll get out of this, Rosie. This wasn't your fault."

Rosalie found herself in the entrance hall and wondered if Celeste had summoned her with a spell until she heard McGonagall's voice. She descended down the grand staircase with a young girl, warning her about the vanishing step. The girl was wearing a glittery red dress and a jewel-encrusted tiara. Her face was hidden by layers of voluminous waves but Rosalie immediately recognized her as her seven year old self. It was the dress she wore for winning Little Miss Surrey, the first pageant of that summer.

At the bottom of the stairs, McGonagall bent down to her younger self, who was openly sobbing. "I know this must be frightening for you, Rosalie. What happened wasn't your fault. It was an accident." She wiped away her tears with a handkerchief. "No one was hurt."

"I want my mommy," she said, sniffling.

A saddened McGonagall gripped her hand. "And you will be with her soon. We have no intention of keeping you from your family but for now, this is the safest place for you. Professor Dumbledore is working very hard on a solution to making sure you don't have another accident. You don't want that, do you? Severus!"

Her younger self had jumped into McGonagall's arms, panicked by the green light that grazed the top of her head. Snape walked down the staircase, clutching his wand, and passed by them without comment. Dante, the one from her dreams, poked his head around the double doors, a chocolate frosted doughnut in his mouth.

"You know the rules, Mister Salvatore. You were instructed not to leave your room without permission," said Snape, peering down at him.

"I was hungry," he replied, his speech muffled by the doughnut. Taking it out of his mouth, he glanced over at the trembling Rosalie. "Hi."

"Leave him be, Severus. You can't blame him for an empty stomach." McGonagall beckoned Dante forward. "This is Dante. He's here as well, getting help from Professor Dumbledore much like you. Dante, why don't you take Rosalie to the kitchens and then to her room? No wandering."

Taking her hand, he led her into the Great Hall. "It's not that scary, promise. You can be in the room next to mine."

Rosalie returned to the cave, to Dante saying her name. As he asked if she felt dizzy, all she could see was that boy from the memory she just witnessed, holding her hand and a half-eaten doughnut. She responded with a harsh slap across the face.

"Rosie!" said Lizzie, stunned.

Resisting the urge to bash his skull into the wall, she walked straight out of the cave, part of her not even caring if Celeste found her. Dante sped past her, blocking the entrance.

"You saw a memory of mine, didn't you?" Her fists clenched at the mention of her legilimency. "Of being in the prism. Rosie, I can—"

"What, give me some new bullshit excuse?" she snarled. "You lied to me! Emilia and Bryce must know too. Malfoy was right. He saw whatever you did to me outside _Enchant_. Was it some plan between you and Celeste for the sick game you're playing? You lied to me about that night and you've been lying to me since we met, which apparently wasn't in London!"

He held out his hand, stopping the others from getting closer. "It's complicated but hear me out."

Dante tearfully explained that their first meeting was erased from her memory, along with her time spent in the prism with him, Celeste, and the rest of the children Dumbledore and Ministry had sent over the years. When Dumbledore entered the prism to return her home, a week after her arrival, he took her memories, believing it was better for her to forget any trace of the magical world.

Meeting her in London had been an unexpected coincidence. Dante immediately recognized her in the boutique and befriended her again, never bringing up their previous connection. It was somewhat out of desire to protect her from Celeste, who he feared would find a way to come after her in the muggle world or when she eventually attended Hogwarts. Rosalie refused to believe him, knowing she had only learned about her abilities the past summer.

"It wasn't the first time your aunt's enchantment broke," he said, quietly. "You had an accident at that pageant. One of the girls was angry that you won and started insulting you and your family. You were only seven. You didn't know what you were doing and Dumbledore stepped in to help when the aurors arrived. He brought you to the prism because it would keep you from another outburst until he could strengthen the charm on your necklace."

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "You're wrong. It broke in Mina's house."

"It wasn't meant as a punishment. He was worried about what the Ministry would do so before the aurors found you, he sapped some of your magic and put it in a chamber. It's like the orb you found in my coat." She swallowed hard, feeling a lump in her throat. "It was just a couple years after you know who was defeated and everyone was still on edge. I'm sorry for lying to you. I should've been honest from the beginning but I thought it was better if you weren't reminded of this place."

Her nails dug so deeply into her palms that it drew blood. A soft rumbling from the ceiling blended with the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

"You need to be calm or it'll tip off Celeste," warned Dante.

Someone gently grasped the back of her arm. "Rose, it's okay. I know you're angry but right now, you need to put it aside so we can work together to find a way out," Alec whispered in her ear. "I won't let anything happen to you, you know that. Relax."

Taking a deep breath, she relaxed her hands. "How is her magic working but not ours?" Vivienne asked Dante, for the first time not eyeing her with disgust but with caution.

He glanced over at Rosalie, who lowered her gaze to the floor, Alec still cradling her arm. "When we were first here, Rosie was able to disrupt the prism's magic. Celeste tried to get her to break the enchantment but she wasn't strong enough. It's why she wants her to open the chamber. She thinks if she gets that magic back, it'll give her enough of a boost to unseal the prism. We can't let her do that."

"Well, she has magic and we don't so what are we supposed to do?" asked Draco. "It doesn't matter if we can overpower her physically. We need a way out of the prism and if it was that easy, Celeste would've done it already."

His reasonable point stirred up another argument among Dante and the Slytherins. As Lizzie reacted angrily to Adrian's suggestion of using Celeste's plan for themselves, Rosalie sat against the wall with Alec. If her life was simple, she would continue to believe Dante was lying about her being in the prism, that their entire friendship was built on a lie and spurred by his loyalty to Celeste. She desperately wanted that to be true, despite the real truth making complete sense.

It explained how, when being given a tour of the castle by Alec, she knew about the vanishing steps on the staircase and why McGonagall had stiffened at her possibly remembering her. McGonagall had feared that her memories returned, not that she had seen her as a cat outside her home. Even more troubling was her curiosity over the pageant incident. What could she have done that warranted Dumbledore draining her magic? Alec wrapped his arm around her, giving her some comfort.

"How cozy."

Rosalie was wrenched back, her hands melting into the wall. The others were thrown against the opposite wall as Celeste entered the cave, dried blood caked around the corner of her mouth.

She bent down to Rosalie. "Good trick. I could sense you in that overpriced dress shop. I was looking at you, wasn't I?" she said, tapping Rosalie's nose. "Not a lot of places to hide, princess. You should've ditched these squabbling idiots but that thought never crossed your mind. Just too good and sweet…what gave me away? After you locked me in that storage room, I thought about it and we never talked about what I was teaching the first years."

"I—I saw it," whispered Rosalie.

Celeste let out a manic giggle. "You saw—of course you did. He told me not to let you inside. Guess you have to be right at least once in your life. Your little gift mixed with the prism and it showed you some memories, huh? Don't be scared. You're just fulfilling your promise to me, Rosie, and it would be very mean of you not to follow you through. Didn't mommy and daddy ever teach you about the importance of a promise?"

A piece of the wall roped around Lizzie's throat, choking her. Celeste threatened to kill the others the longer Rosalie refused to cooperate, starting with Lizzie and showing little to no concern about doing the same to her own sister. When Rosalie begged her to stop, agreeing to help with her escape on the condition of not harming them, she reversed her spell, allowing Lizzie to release a shaky breath.

"I wouldn't hurt them," she said, in mock offense.

"You were just choking Lizzie!" yelled Graham.

Rosalie's hands were no longer restrained. "I've spent way longer than I wanted to with any of you. Let's go, Rosie. We have a barrier to break."

"Imitanta," whispered Rosalie, placing both of her hands on the smooth wall.

"Have you gone temporarily deaf?" She pointed her wand at Draco. "Don't make me go back on my—"

Celeste copied her, struggling to move her hands. Alec snatched her wand as it fell to the floor, watching her push against the wall with all of her might.

"Mimic spell. I taught her that one a couple weeks ago during a Charms session," he said, confidently. "Guess your connection wasn't working at the time. It's not the most complex spell but it fouled you up pretty quick."

She scoffed at him. "This is your grand plan? What else would I expect from a moron like you? This won't hold me forever. She'll get tired eventually."

"True but we can help her last long enough until Dumbledore notices we're missing. He'll be able to figure out where we are and then he'll deal with you." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm sure you're thinking that you'll find a way out before then but something tells me that Rose's magic is stronger than yours, even with all the magic you absorbed from those kids."

Without bothering to use her legilimency, Rosalie could see their reluctance with Alec's plan. It was the best in a terrible situation but not without its faults. How long would it take Dumbledore to notice their absence, with his attention occupied by the Yule Ball? Celeste seemed to sense that unease as well, taunting them on their insecurities. Alec's jaw muscle twitched when she mentioned his 'drug-addled' mother.

"Don't listen to her," Draco told Blaise, who was shaking at Celeste's insults about his rotating wheel of stepfathers. "She's just a nutter."

"Ooh, look who's got a sharp tongue these days," she teased. "Itty bitty Draco not hiding behind his mother's skirts anymore? When did you grow a spine?"

"Maybe it was after you drained my cousin like an evil leech, you—" Adrian stopped him from attacking her. "Let go. Dursley won't feel what I do to her."

"I missed these get togethers. You all getting your knickers in a twist over the littlest things…Vivvie pining after Alec while he acts like she's invisible. It must kill you that he's hung up on someone else." She glanced over at a silent Vivienne. "Does it bother you that just when you thought you had him, all that hard work is wiped away by a muggleborn? Oh come on, I know you're not that blind, Vivvie. I was able to get in people's heads while I've been stuck in here and it's amazing he hasn't torn off her clothes yet."

Trying to conceal the pain in her arms, Rosalie deflected the awkward conversation, calling the manipulative blonde predictable. She noted how Celeste deflected when someone was onto her schemes, to reassert her power. It was exactly what she had done to Randall Turpin on the day of the potions accident, leading her to accuse Celeste of plotting to use him as a scapegoat if one of the professors learned of her shady behavior.

"It's why you had Elijah with you in the dungeons," said Rosalie, putting the pieces together. She pressed her fingers into the wall to strengthen her grip. "If you were caught, he could back up your story. You didn't give a shit about him. You pretended to so he would cover your ass. You caused the explosion, not Turpin."

"Two plus two, Rosie. That piece of stale toast couldn't hurt a fly without weeping," said Celeste, scathingly. "Oh, woe is me. My mommy died in the war and everyone should feel sorry for me and praise me for being slightly above average in my studies. He should've thanked me because without me, no one would spare him a second glance."

Rosalie frowned. "You took Ivana Rosier too. You put that story in Snape's head and then tampered with Randall's memories to make him look guilty." Everything Celeste told her had been a well-crafted lie. "Who wouldn't believe that he was upset that her relative murdered his mother? But that was a problem too, wasn't it? Her family was too well-known so if she went missing, people would start talking. That's why you took over the tutoring session that day. You wanted it to look like an accident."

"Actually, that part wasn't planned," she lamented. "Dark magic is tricky. It got too overwhelming and I caused the explosion. If it's any consolation, the brats were already dead when I did it. That buffoon Elijah was supposed to alter my memory before Dumbledore could take a peek but he got spooked by Snape."

"H—how can you not even care?" asked Vivienne, looking at her older sister like a stranger. "They were just kids. Why would you hurt them? You were friends with Ivana's sister."

Celeste remained unfazed. "Power requires sacrifice. Who cares if I had to crush a few measly ants to achieve that? Half of them were mudbloods. I gifted them with a quick death."

"You can't do this forever, Rose," whispered Alec, as the two sisters argued back and forth. "Remember when you froze my wrist? You need to do the same to her. Focus on controlling her body. We'll make a run for it. My father told me about tunnels underneath this mountain. The entrance isn't far from here. Do it now."

Lifting her hands from the wall, Celeste mimicked her and her right hand froze at her side, just as her wand flew towards her. Alec dashed towards the cave entrance with Rosalie, the others joining them.

Rosalie groaned from a shrill ringing between her ears. "A—Alec, I can't—"

A jet of red light grazed Alec's shoulder. As Celeste was about to cast another spell, Rosalie felt a burst of energy from her chest and the cave rumbled around them, the ceiling collapsing into a pile of jagged rocks. Alec nearly pulled her arm out of her socket to hurry her along, leading them towards the supposed tunnels. He stopped at the opening to another cave, spinning a rickety sign, and ushered them into the hole that formed in the ground. Lizzie was halfway down the ladder when Celeste apparated in front of the cave, suffering a deep gash on the side of her head and multiple bruises. Mirroring her father's style, she flicked then spun her wand counterclockwise, tossing Alec into the air and summoning Rosalie towards her.

Her arm tightly wrapped around Rosalie's throat. "Celeste, let her go or I chuck all these jars. Time doesn't reset so once they're gone, they're gone." She giggled at Dante's threat. "I'm not joking. Let her go now!"

"Let her go," she mocked. "I don't need those stupid ingredients. You still don't understand, do you, Dante? All this time, you've been trying to outsmart me in a game of chess but you don't realize that I've already declared checkmate. I already have my escape plan. Daddy dearest has been getting it ready. See, Rosie isn't the first person I was able to make contact with, just the first physically."

After absorbing the magic of the children left with her in the prism, she reached out to her father, using legilimency to invade his thoughts. He thought it was a hoax until she used a secret runic code they developed in her first year at Hogwarts to avoid Vivienne's snooping on their letters. After the World Cup, he informed her of his run-in with a grown up Rosalie and they began to concoct ways for Celeste to escape the prism.

"Rosie was Plan B, you could say. My father cast a spell tonight that'll end once the moon falls from its highest point in the real world. I may have been overwhelmed by it all those years ago but my father's well-practiced in dark magic," she explained, with pride. "I'm bound magically to the prism so the spell allows me to swap with someone from my bloodline."

Vivienne's eyes widened to the size of a quaffle. "W—what do you mean swap? You're not—Father wouldn't leave me here."

"He jumped at the chance. You're worthless, Vivienne," she said, with a scornful sneer. "Why wouldn't he want his superior daughter at his side? We may have had our differences in the past but he knows who would be more useful to the Dark Lord. The Dark Mark in the sky might as well have been a flashing sign of his return. You've never been nothing more than a boy crazy airhead."

"We're not letting you do that," said Lizzie, glaring. "We'll stop you."

"Don't worry. You'll be keeping her company. Call it a special gift to my father for all of his hard work." She pointed at Draco, Adrian, Graham, and Blaise. "Your fathers were the governors who approved sending me to this hellhole…well stepfather in your case Zabini but you can't expect me to keep track. Your mother gets a new husband every day. Pierce Cabot was the one to bring up the prism so it's sort of poetic for him to lose both of his children. Dante, you're just a thorn in my heel at this point and your family always annoyed me. No, it'll just be me and precious Rosie leaving."

The tip of her wand tapped Rosalie's temple, knocking her unconscious.

Rosalie woke up in the first floor corridor, near the library. Her hope was that Dumbledore had extracted her from the prism but then as a disgruntled Celeste and a seven year old boy who looked very similar to Draco passed by the doorway, other children further inside the room. The boy pounded his fist against it, revealing an invisible barrier. Celeste grabbed his wrist, telling him it was a waste of time.

She turned her head towards the doorway. "Who's there?"

A young Rosalie, now wearing a floral dress and teal cardigan, was kneeling behind one of the gargoyle statues by the staircase. Anxiously stepping out from her hiding spot, she walked over to the library. Gaius regarded her with a familiar disdain, further confirming his relation to Draco.

"Are you spying on me, princess?" asked Celeste. "Where's your tiara? Did Dante steal it? If he did, I'll hang him on a statue by his underwear."

Her younger self giggled. "No. It's in my room. Why are you in the library?"

"We're in a time-out for breaking one of Dumbledore's rules. It's hard to remember them all sometimes," she said, rolling her eyes. "What are you doing up here?"

"I heard you," replied Rosalie, shyly. "You sounded really mad. You said you were going to get back at Dumbledore. Are you gonna pull a prank? I like funny pranks. My friend Mina pulled one on her brother Evan and he got covered in honey."

Celeste looked intrigued. "You heard me all the way from the Great Hall?" Getting down to eye level, she smiled. "I have an idea but it won't work if we're stuck behind this barrier. If you help us out, I'll show you where Snape hid the good ice cream. Go down to Snape's office and on the shelves, you'll see a silver potion. It'll lower the barrier for us. It's a pretty tough job for a little witch but I bet you can do it."

The corridor became momentarily foggy and as it returned to normal, she realized that it was a new memory. Gaius was bouncing a dungbomb against the barrier in boredom. As her younger self walked down the corridor, he called out for Celeste, who joined him by the doorway. Her smile fell when Rosalie told her that she was unable to reach the potion on the high shelf.

"This is why you don't trust mudbloods," hissed Gaius.

"My new friend can help. He found me in Snape's office." Rosalie waved her hand. "You can come over."

Celeste tensed up as a man in his early thirties, wearing scarlet red robes with an auror patch, approached the library. "Savage." She noticed his glassy-eyed expression. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," said Rosalie, happily. "I asked if he could get rid of the spell and he said yes. He's really nice. Do you think there's cookie dough ice cream?"

As the auror lowered the barrier, Celeste looked at her. "You can get anything you want."

Rosalie found herself at the edge of the Black Lake. Panting heavily, she sat up, wondering if it was another memory.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty." Celeste was in the middle of a strange runic symbol carved into the dirt. "The spell's almost done. Ready to go home?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you," hissed Rosalie.

With a quiet sigh, she stepped out of the intricate circle and kneeled beside Rosalie, twirling a loose strand of her dark hair around her finger. "I know it'll be an adjustment, being away from your friends and family, but you deserve better, Rosie. You shouldn't be in the shadow of your pathetic cousin who blunders his way to a victory. The Dark Lord will see your potential and he'll nurture it. His vision for the wizarding world benefits all of us."

"I'd never join him. He's insane and so are you. How can you think what you're doing is right?" she asked, in a desperate attempt to appeal to some semblance of humanity. "You were abandoned here for ten years and now your sister will suffer the same fate. No one's that heartless."

"Emotions make us weak," she stated. "They're just obstacles to our greatness. Is it so horrible to want what you want? Putting others before yourself…it must drive you mad sometimes. Deep down, you want to come with me. You want to see what he has to offer. All you have to do is take my hand."

The rune began to glow bright red. Celeste lifted an unwilling Rosalie up, dragging her towards the spot. Standing inside the glowing circle, she tugged on the crook of Rosalie's arm and as one of her heels was about to touch the thin line, something struck Celeste's bandaged hand, causing her to stumble backwards in pain.

Celeste removed the silver knife from her freshly injured hand, the blade coated in blood. "Ro—"

She disappeared from the center of the rune, which then lost its glow. Dante tackled her in a hug, speaking incoherently.

"I didn't know if I'd get down here in time. I remembered when Celeste first talked about escaping. She mentioned doing it by the lake because it was a weak point in the barrier," he said, rambling. "I'm sorry, Rosie. I'm sorry for not telling you the truth. If you knew, you wouldn't have fallen for Celeste's lies. I thought I was protecting you but I was being stupid."

"It's okay," she mumbled into his chest.

Her anger was not completely subsided but their safety was more pressing than her feelings. They headed back to the castle and into the Great Hall, where the others were sitting at the Slytherin table. Hearing that Celeste's spell was successful only dampened their mood. Tossing her knapsack on the table, Alec revealed that the potions ingredients were not for the barrier, but to brew a deadly poison, suggesting that it was Celeste's plan in case they had put up more of a fight in preventing her from taking Rosalie.

They bounced potential ideas for escaping the prism, the conversation slowly becoming heated between the older teenagers. Listening to Vivienne call Adrian a brainless git, Rosalie eyed the knapsack. She felt a strange pull towards a glass cube that contained swirling black smoke.

"I can get us out," said Rosalie, interrupting Graham's speech about contacting Dumbledore.

Following her gaze, Alec closed the knapsack. "No. We'll figure this out. Why don't you four go to the kitchens and get some food?"

Lizzie practically forced her into the kitchens. While she, Blaise, and Draco dug through the fridge and pantries, Rosalie sat by herself on the floor. A bowl of chocolate ice cream hovered in front of her, held by Draco.

"They'll find a way, if Alec and Salvatore can go long enough without going at each other's throats," he said, sitting beside her. "Let them handle it."

"I don't _want_ ice cream," she hissed. "Celeste won and who knows what she's doing? She could've destroyed the castle or attacked Dumbledore."

Draco took a bite of his ice cream. "If Celeste thinks she's got a chance, she's nuttier than Moody." He handed her a spoon. "Eat. It'll take your mind off that misplaced guilt. For all you know, Dumbledore was waiting for her in that room and she's being shipped off to Azkaban."

"We'd know for sure if went ahead with my plan," she replied, poking at the small scoop in her bowl.

"Because it's dangerous," he whispered, Lizzie and Blaise busy searching a bottom pantry for jams. "For whatever reason, Dumbledore sealed your magic in that chamber. You don't know what might happen if you take it back. What if it kills you, Rosalie? Why would you take that risk?"

With no sign of Dumbledore coming to their rescue, they decided to rest for the night and hope for a feasible idea in the morning. Rosalie maintained her silent treatment, certain that she was right about the chamber. As she laid on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling, wishing she could turn back time.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Celeste was standing at the end of her bed. "Seems our roles are reversed. I'd give you some advice but we both know the only way out is for you to regain your full abilities. Too bad Prince Charming won't let you near it. I'll keep a close eye on Harry. I thought of casting a killing curse while he was with that flea-ridden Weasley but my father convinced me it wouldn't be wise. Besides, his life isn't mine to take."

The lamp on the nightstand flickered. "Don't go near him. If you try to hurt him, I'll—"

"You'll what?" she asked, egging her on. "You can't do anything while you'll stuck in the prism. If you don't get out in time for the big show, I'll come visit to paint you a vivid picture. Good luck, princess."

Once she vanished, Rosalie left the room and sneaked over to the boys' side, opening the door to Alec's room. He was fast asleep, the knapsack leaning against the dresser. Careful to make no noise, she snatched the knapsack and crept down to the lake.

"Rose!" Alec hurried down the sloping hill, moving faster than a cheetah. "Give me the bag!"

"No," she said, keeping it behind her back. "We can't let Celeste run around while we're trapped in this bubble. Why can't you see that as scary as it is, this is our only option? We need to get out of here!"

"Not if it risks your life!" he shouted. "There might've been something that she missed all these years and if we put our heads together, we'll find it. What if she's lying? It could be a way to take you out of the equation because you're a threat. You know why I won't consider any plan that puts you in danger. You need to trust me."

Tightening her grip on the knapsack, Rosalie moved towards him, closing the gap between them. She leaned on her tiptoes and softly brushed her lips against his. He snaked his muscular arm around her petite waist, pulling her against him, her hands resting on his shoulders.

Before it got too heated, she stepped away. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "This is the only way."

Rosalie opened one of the jars from the knapsack and threw a blue powder at his face. It worked in an instant, freezing him like a statue. Taking out the chamber, she smashed it on the ground, the smoke seeping through the shattered glass and coiled around her body like several snakes.

"It's not like we had magic to hide it!"

Draco was walking alongside Blaise, watching Lizzie and Dante yell at each other. Alec's shouting minutes ago had woken them up, leading them to realize that Rosalie and Celeste's knapsack were missing. With Alec having a gigantic head start, it was difficult to keep up with him but Dante theorized that he and Rosalie were at the Black Lake, the same spot where Celeste left the prism.

At the bottom of the hill was Alec, easy to spot with his build, standing unusually still. Vivienne got to him first, seeing that he was not moving a muscle, and suggested it was freezing powder. She clutched her chest as the effects suddenly wore off, making him almost topple into her.

"Can you be quiet? I'm trying to concentrate," heard Draco.

Rosalie was a few feet away, kneeling by the water. Draco noticed pieces of glass in the grass, next to the open knapsack. There was no visible change in her appearance, except that she was oddly calm.

"I broke it," she said, her eyes closed. "You were all too stubborn to think logically so I did what I had to…"

"A—are you okay?" asked Lizzie, concerned.

"I'm fine." There was no emotion in her voice. "I remember the spell Celeste tried when I was here before. We'll be back at Hogwarts soon. She isn't there. She's somewhere being hidden by a fidelius charm."

"You just know that?" said Adrian, looking to a wary Dante for an explanation.

Draco felt his feet lifting off the ground. It was like an invisible string was connected to his core. Their surroundings changed in the blink of an eye, to the inside of Dumbledore's office. He steadied himself against a nearby table, face to face with the headmaster, all of the Hogwarts professors, and the three assistant professors.

The professors speaking over each other ushered them out the door, insisting on a visit to the hospital wing. His relief of being out of the prism faltered at the sight of Rosalie unconscious on the floor. Alec was fighting back against Snape, muttering a slew of curses under his breath. Before he was forced out the door by Sprout, he saw Snape repelling Alec with a charm while Dumbledore levitated Rosalie, both disappearing behind a back door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


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